But for a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)
by AlfheimWanderer
Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? How would it look through the eyes of an outsider from Japan - a young man fresh come into his status as a wizard, who seeks his fortune in a distant land?
1. Prologue

_**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)  
**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?

* * *

 **Prologue**

"...they're all dead, Hagrid," a toneless voice voice issued from a figure hunched over in the doorway of what remained of the house at Godric's Hollow, visibly bracing himself against the frame. "Lily. James. Even young Harry. They're all dead."

"Dead...?" the half-giant echoed disbelievingly. Dumbledore had sent him here with , looking around for some signs of movement, some sign of life, something that would give the lie to the words of Sirius Black. But other than the purring of the engine of Black's flying motorcycle, the ruin was as silent as the grave. "...all of them?"

But how was that possible?

This place had been hidden by the _Fidelius_ Charm, after all, the most powerful protection known to wizard-kind. One of the most ancient and most difficult charms of all, it functioned by separating a piece of information from the world and hiding it within the soul of a chosen Secret-Keeper, so none could discover it - save those the Secret-Keeper told.

Why and by who it had been invented had long been lost to the ages, with some speculating that it had originally been used by wizards to help them hide from threats in a once far more dangerous world, though others scoffed at the thought, since who would wizards have to hide from except each other?

Usually, it was used on locations, of course, not on individuals, given that hiding the very fact that someone existed from the world was not entirely a good thing, as that person would become intangible, invisible, and otherwise undetectable, creating a sense of isolation that could easily drive one mad, as the only ones that person would be able to interact with would be their secret-keeper and those others had been trusted with the secret of their existence. And if their secret-keeper died without telling anyone else, well, then the person involved would become their own secret-keeper, a decidedly non-ideal situation since one would be intangible, invisible, and otherwise undetectable to those who did not know the secret and thus could not disclose it.

One would be left to wander through the world, unable to interact with anyone else until the day one passed away, effectively becoming an existence less the meanest ghost, trapped forever in an inviolable prison of one's own devising.

The protection, in that sense, was absolute.

Even Hagrid, who had been expelled from Hogwarts, and had not had the benefit of a full education, knew _that_ much, which was why he was so shocked to see the Potters' residence...destroyed.

...well, absolute absent a betrayal from the Secret-Keeper.

The man who was standing before him now, his body shaking with sobs? Or...

"Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahahahaha..."

 _'...laughter?'_

It was a hysterical sound, a maddened sound, a sound of grief and terror and loss that would have terrified nearly any other wizard who heard it. Even Rubeus Hagrid, who had no shortage of experience dealing with creatures that others would describe as monsters and abominations, found himself taking a step backwards, his hand sliding slowly into the pocket of his coat and taking hold of his crossbow just in case Black decided to do something...unwise.

Aside from that, however, the half-giant simply waited, as he'd learned that making any sudden movements around a maddened beast could lead to them thinking of him as a threat.

And well, since Black hadn't made any hostile movements of his own, Hagrid supposed he should give him the benefit of the doubt. It was what Dumbledore would have done in his shoes, he thought.

The laughter went on, and on, and on, with the man shaking more and more as it continued, until at last, like a puppet severed from its strings, he crumpled to the ground, the laughter choked off to make way for a keening wail, and then...nothing.

"Black," Hagrid grunted into the eerie quiet. "What happened?"

The man's behavior had the half-giant very much on edge, as he acted nothing like the Sirius Black that Hagrid remembered, lacking any trace of the confidence or jocularity. Was this some imposter sent to mislead him, or...?

"Peter," the wizard half-muttered, half-spat, sheer misery writ into his voice. "He was the Secret-Keeper."

 _"Watcha say?"_

Everyone in the Order had thought that _Sirius Black_ was the Secret-Keeper, but now the man was telling him that this had been a lie.

"You heard me, Hagrid. He was the Secret-Keeper," Black repeated, turning his gaze upward to look upon the half-giant. "He sold them out. He sold them out..."

* * *

Ten years later, Albus Dumbledore found himself sitting at the High Table of Hogwarts, looking out upon the incoming first years, envying how fresh-faced and bright eyed they were, how innocent of the harsh realities of the world. At his age, nearly 110, he had been witness to many tragic events and deeds done in the name of the Greater Good, seen the futility of fighting against the cruelties written into the rules of the society one lived in, watched his best-laid plans be unraveled by circumstance, and learned the bitterness of victory.

He'd read an interesting quote once, that went something like _'There is nothing except a battle lost that can be half as melancholy as a battle won,'_ written by a rather famous Muggle general, and as the man who had coordinated the resistance to Voldemort in Britain's Wizarding War, he understood that all too well.

Yes, their side had triumphed, with Voldemort losing his life the night he attacked the Potters, but the cost of that victory had been far, far too high...especially since he knew it was only a temporary one, as the Dark Lord's shade lingered yet in this world.  
 _  
'It is only a matter of time until he reappears, and I find myself lacking allies.'_

No one in Britain believed - wanted to believe - that the Dark Wizard who had threatened Britain for almost a decade, whose name still terrified veterans of the conflict and children alike, was not truly dead.

Severus might have been a useful asset, but the double agent had taken his own life shortly after learning of Lily's death, as without her, the former Death Eater had lost his will to live. Sirius Black had left Britain entirely, heading to America so he could put an ocean between his past. Even Remus Lupin had disappeared from the wizarding world, though to where, Dumbledore had little idea, as the werewolf had said nothing of his plans.

Alastor could be useful, but he was close to retirement as it was, and as loathe as the Auror might be to admit it, Albus could see how tired the man was, and how badly his wounds still pained him.

And as for his senior faculty, well...he imagined Minerva would back him if there _was_ evidence of Voldemort coming back, as might Flitwick, but for as long as Albus had known the man, Horace had little interest in fighting or getting his hands dirty.  
 _  
'I wonder how different things would have been had Lily's child survived.'_

There were so many what-ifs that filled his mind even to this day.

What if the Potters had not switched Secret-Keepers? What if the Order had kept a closer eye on its members? What if...and this was something he knew was merely fantasy, Lily's son had survived the events of the night, and become a pillar the wizarding community in Britain could rally around, a symbol of hope for those who to rebuild - and of oddness he could point out to his trusted allies?

 _'No. It is best not to think of might-have-beens, or one might go mad.'_

He'd learned that lesson well enough over his 110 years of life, though he had trouble taking his own advice, as he wondered to this day, if he'd chosen another path, if perhaps Ariana would be still be alive. If perhaps he might not be estranged from his brother. If perhaps Gellert...

 _'No. It does no good to dwell on the past, not when one cannot truly change it without unraveling what is.'_

And so he had to accept that many of his hopes and dreams had been crushed as thoroughly as young Harry's skull, though in his case the damage was due to his own misadventures and ambition, not a particularly heavy piece of rubble.

 _'I am not a good man,'_ he reflected, shaking his head as he looked upon those who still had a lifetime before them, those who still had so many choices to make. _'And perhaps I never have been.'_ Even now, power was his weakness and temptation, a temptation he occasionally indulged in, lest the desire for it become unmanageable, but he mostly managed to put it aside. _'What I can do is to try and protect the innocence of the children entrusted to my care, and to ensure that there is a future for them to grow up in._ '

Which was why he felt somewhat guilty about the trap he was laying at Hogwarts this year, and the risk it posed to the students, given that some would ignore his warnings about a very painful death waiting for those who braved the Third Year Corridor. Still, it was a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things, as it would expose Voldemort's survival once and perhaps, give him a fighting chance of ending the next War before it had even begun.

Britain had enough dead heroes, had known enough pain and sacrifice. It was the least he could do to try to spare a new generation the suffering of the last, especially when the failure to see what Tom would become, and to take action to prevent it, was squarely on _his_ head.


	2. Sorting it Out

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**. _Sorting it Out_

Matou Shinji watched uneasily as one student after another stepped forward to have a frayed and worn out witch's hat was placed upon their heads, whereupon, after some indeterminate amount of time, it would shout out " **HUFFLEPUFF!"**

Well, or Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor, but he knew which of those he wanted to be sorted into.

' _There's nothing hidden in my head that it can't see, huh?'_ he mused, not feeling entirely comfortable about having an obviously enchanted item anywhere near his head. That usually tended to be A Very Bad Idea™ where magecraft was concerned, though he supposed that if they were placing it on every student, it couldn't be that terrible of a thing. _'Unless it changes my personality or something.'_

No…it wouldn't do that.

Or at least he hoped not. He couldn't actually be sure, but after the reading he'd done on mind magic and curses, well, there was no such thing as being too careful.

' _I guess it uses Legilimency…'_

Which meant that in theory, the mind-clearing exercises he'd been working on would be helpful. Only in theory though, as his mind was always…full of ideas. Full of questions. And lately, full of wonder at the world and all the curious happenings in it.

" _ **GRYFFINDOR!"**_

Even Tohsaka being…Tohsaka and laughing in his face when he told her he was leaving Fuyuki to attend an institute for Witchcraft hadn't really hurt.

…too much.

Really.

So what if she'd been the girl he had always admired. The girl he'd seen as perfect. The girl who had been someone he'd idolized in his own way.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter because she was in Japan, and he was here. In Britain.

Starting new.

" **RAVENCLAW!"**

' _Huh, almost five minutes that time_. _That's the longest yet._ '

He glanced up to see just who had been holding up the queue, noting that it was a bushy-haired brunette who was average as far as looks went. Not that he was any judge of how westerners looked.

There were still many more people – about two dozen, perhaps more, but like any good Japanese boy, he was used to waiting in line for things.

'… _and waiting. And waiting.'_

He sighed.

' _Maybe if I shout in my mind where I want to go, it will just send me there?'_

A few more names, a few more shouts of the hat, a few more rounds of polite applause and gangly youths walking over to a table draped in red, green, or blue.

MacDougal – Gryffindor.

Malfoy – Slytherin.

Malone – Ravenclaw.

And then it was his turn, and scarcely had the hat touched his head when it shouted out _**HUFFLEPUFF!**_

Shinji smiled as he headed to the table draped in black and gold, seating himself next to a second-year girl who had saved him a seat.

"Thank you, Tsuji-hime," he said in Japanese, giving with a formal bow.

Tsuji Miyuki merely raised an eyebrow.

"I distinctly recall saying that -san was fine," she replied archly. "Now sit down before people start staring."

Not one to disobey a beautiful senpai, Shinji did as she instructed and looked around at the faces of the people he would be spending the next seven years with.

"I suppose I've seen worse?" he offered, with a few others chuckling awkwardly.

"…just for that, I think the Prefect may have you be the one to demonstrate the House's anti-intrusion charms," the young woman continued, an odd smirk crossing her lips as she took a sip of tea. "I hear they can be…unpleasant."

"…heh, very funny, senpai," Shinji responded.

"I wasn't joking."

"…oh."

* * *

Matou Shinji had expected the worst when he had learned he would be brought over to Britain by some magical means of transport, but travelling by Portkey had been worse than he'd imagined. It had felt like someone had strung a metal hook behind his navel and had ripped him through space and time, entrails first.

(Sans entrails actually coming out of his body, of course).

When he'd landed, he'd nearly collapsed from nausea and dizziness, a sensation that hadn't been helped by a sudden torrent of English washing over him.

' _So…loud…'_

It hadn't been, really, in terms of decibels, but for someone experiencing something not entirely unlike a hangover, it had certainly felt that way. That it had been ceaseless babble in a tongue he had trouble understanding, most of it inane and garbled to his recovering senses, only served to annoy him further.

While he had some grasp of English from when he'd been sent abroad to study during the Fourth War, he had been out of practice for a few years, long enough for his tongue to feel clumsy, and his brain to be rather slow at translating.

Still, he'd managed to make out some of the gossip - some of which was apparently focused on him, since it was unusual to see anyone come to Kings Cross by Portkey, with the rest being split evenly between an exotic-looking foreigner with tanned skin and purple hair who some thought to be a metamorphmagus, whatever that was, and a handsome young prince named Draco, with hair of gold and—

'… _really? I know I'm going to a magical school, but if that guy ends up being something out of a light novel, I'm going to get a little angry.'_ But then the boy had chuckled. _'But I guess if it's a light novel, maybe_ I'd _end up being the protagonist, since I'm the odd one out, so there's that. It's either me or the other foreigner, anyway.'_

Or so he'd told himself, as a bit of humor helped him settle his stomach at least.

"Hello," a quiet voice had greeted him in somewhat formal Japanese, with the boy turning to see two girls about his age, or perhaps a little older, coming up to him. "You're the student from Japan, yes?"

One was a pale refined beauty, with long, lustrous black hair that went down to her waist, and eyes like warm amber, clad in a dress of midnight blue, while other had a more refreshing, sporty look, with chestnut hair bound up in twintails and eyes so dark as to be nearly black, and was dressed in a simple white blouse and skirt ensemble.

"Nice to meet you," the boy had replied, giving the two a slight bow, as he was grateful to be able to speak in his own language. "I am Matou Shinji, from Fuyuki City

"Suzuki…Natsumi," the one with the lighter hair had said with a shy smile. "Matou - that is written as 'among the paulowina' yes? And is Shinji 'faithful second son'?"

Shinji had tensed slightly at the reminder that even his name had implied he wouldn't be his family's heir, but...

' _It_ is… _what the name means.'_

"That's right," Shinji had answered, regarding the girl before him. "I know Suzuki is 'bell and tree', but is your Natsumi written with the kanji for pick vegetables?" he'd inquired, a hint of teasing entering his voice.

"N-no! Written with the kanji for beautiful summer!" Natumi had exclaimed, turning red as she crossed her arms and looked away, something that Shinji couldn't help but find cute, as it reminded him of Tohsaka.

"I am called Tsuji Miyuki, written as 'crossroads' and 'beautiful snow,'" the other had interjected, her voice regal and clear as a bell as she regarded the young boy before her. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Matou-kun."

"And you, Tsuji-kakka," Shinji had replied, with a deep bow, deliberately choosing a much more formal suffix than necessary.

"Rather than kakka, -san should be fine when speaking in Japanese," Tsuji Miyuki had answered. "Though for Natsumi's sake, English might be best, if you can speak it well enough."

"English will…work," the Boy from the East had allowed, though had felt awkward in his mouth. "I am not used to speaking in it, but practice would be good."

"Mm."

"Please take care of me," he'd continued, bowing again to the duo.

"W-would you like to sit together, on the Express?" the lighter-haired girl had offered, as she'd looked down and played nervously with her fingers. "We can tell you about Hogwarts and how things are in Britain, and you can tell us about Japan." She'd paused then, hesitating. "But o-only if you want to, though. If you had someone else to sit with, t-that's fine."

"…now why I do something so foolish as turn down an invitation from two beautiful girls?' Shinji had asked with a warm smile, whereupon Natsumi had reddened slightly.

"You'll have to excuse Natsumi," Miyuki had noted, looking at Shinji somewhat coolly. "She isn't used to dealing with males, as she attended an all-female school."

"…sorry…"

* * *

But while he might have appreciated the company, once on the train though, Shinji hadn't especially been impressed with the interior of the Hogwarts Express. He'd taken trains before, after all, and they were sleeker, more modern.

' _The Shinkansen is probably faster than this…'_

"I don't really understand why there's a train at all," the boy had commented once the three of them had gotten settled in their compartment, just as the train pulled away from the station. "Or why I'm being made to take it, since if I was being brought here from Japan, the Portkey could have transported me to Hogwarts just as easily."

' _And then I could have gone to the nurses' office.'_

"It is tradition," had been Tsuji Miyuki's reply, her amber-colored eyes regarding him severely as she took what looked like a thermos from her bag, as well as three golden spheres which resembled nothing so much as marbles. "In the past, it is said that students came to Hogwarts by whatever method their families could provide, but it proved inconvenient."

"Inconvenient?"

"Having a thousand students ride broomsticks, enchanted carts, or creatures risked exposing the existence of magic to the world," Miyuki had clarified. "So it was decided that all students must take the train from Kings Cross."

"...but that just means that students need to get to Kings Cross instead."

"A simpler matter, as it is in London, and therefore conveniently accessible for both witches born of Muggles or one of the so-called noble lineages," had come the reply.

"…that makes sense," Shinji had allowed, though he wasn't completely satisfied with her answer. "But well, where did they get a train?"

He hadn't thought of practitioners of witchcraft as the sort to practice mechanical engineering after all, so he doubted they built it. Though he had heard from the guide who had taken him to _Mahoutokoro_ about a sentient train that collected mystic eyes, so he supposed it that anything was possible.

Miyuki had shrugged then, her delicate frame moving slightly as she did.

"I do not know myself," she had admitted. "Perhaps I will ask Professor Binns. For now, would you care for tea?"

"I wouldn't mind," Shinji had answered, as his throat was perhaps a bit parched. "Thanks."

"I'd like some too, please," Natsumi had chimed in, having finished looking around curiously at everything in the room, as if it was all wonderful and new.

Nodding, Miyuki had drawn her wand, and with a wave and a few muttered words, had transformed the golden spheres into rather exquisite looking tea cups, each of which she filled with a fragrant, pale green liquid.

"Enjoy," she'd said, with Shinji muttering his thanks as he took one of the cups, finding the aroma and the sweet, grassy flavor quite refreshing.

'… _this is_ shincha tea, _with_ _leaves from the first harvest,'_ he'd thought, surprised. A very rare taste to find outside of Japan, to be sure…

"Oh, so you can even do that with magic?" Natsumi had questioned, her eyes wide as she stared at the teacup Miyuki pushed in front of her. "As expected of Miyuki-senpai!"

"It is merely basic transfiguration," had been Miyuki's reply. "You will learn as much in your first year, Natsumi."

Shinji observed that the older girl seemed to be milder toward Suzuki than to him, though he supposed if they knew each other, it was understandable.

"...a useful skill to be sure," he'd noted, wondering what else was possible through witchcraft. All he'd read up on were curses, after all.

"It is," the raven-haired girl had agreed.

"Do you know any magic yourself, Matou-kun?" Natsumi had asked then, turning her curious gaze on the Boy from the East. "Anything from Japan?"

"Well, I'm don't think it comes from Japan, but I do know one spell..." Shinji had admitted, getting up to grab his wand of Cherry from where he'd tied it to his traveling chest. "Where did I…here it is," he'd said as he found it. He sat down, wand drawn, and looked for something useful to test the one spell her knew on. _'Guess I'll have to use the teacup.'_ " _Gemino_!" he'd intoned as he waved his wand in the pattern his book had indicated, with a perfect replica of the teacup - with tea included - coming into existence beside the first.

"Wahh! Coool!" the light haired Natsumi had said, clapping her hands at the display. "I wish I knew how to do such cool magic too!" But then she looked down. "I hope everyone isn't ahead of me...that its ok that I don't know how to do any magic."

"Everyone starts from somewhere, Natsumi." Miyuki's voice had been kind, as she reached out to pat her friend's head. "Work hard and you can do such things as well."

"Auuu..."

Shinji had waited for the two girls to finish their bit of skinship, as he didn't want to interrupt.

"...about Hogwarts?" Shinji ventured, recalling something else he'd overheard on the platform. "I remember hearing something about houses?"

"Indeed." Miyuki had paused then, as she'd just taken a delicate sip of tea, and found it good. "There are four houses at Hogwarts: Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Which one you are sorted into determines where you sleep, who you will have classes with, and such for your seven years at Hogwarts, so you should choose wisely when the time comes."

"Oh, and do each of them mean something?" Shinji wondered, thinking of the Four Divine Beasts, and how he thought Seiryuu, Genbu, Byakko, and Suzaku would be cooler names.

"Slytherin, whose symbol is the Snake, is the house of Ambition and Resourcefulness. Gryffindor, the Lion, predatory and lazy. Ravenclaw, the Eagle, eccentric, alone, and quick to steal credit. And Hufflepuff, for hard work, fair judgement, and being tougher than we appear," the raven-haired had summarized with a trace of a smirk.

"Auu...Miyuki-senpai, I think your bias is showing through," Natsumi had said reproachfully. "Just because you're a Hufflepuff..."

"Bias? Perhaps. It is simply what I have seen," the raven-haired girl admitted. "Ask ten students what they think of the houses, and you will find ten different answers, depending what they have experienced." She glanced back at Shinji. "In any case, Matou-kun, Natsumi, choose carefully…"

"Oh? And why did you choose Hufflepuff, Tsuji no Ue?"

"…again with the archaic suffixes, Matou?" the refined senpai had questioned. "As for why, cecause I found its atmosphere open and refreshing." And then her lips had curled into an unpleasant expression. "And because I did not wish to endure the presence of the one named Cho Chang any more than was necessary."

"Cho Chang?" Shinji had repeated. "Who is…?"

"A frivolous Ravenclaw who is far too concerned with romance and Quidditch for her own good, with friends who enjoy trying to put people in their place. My rival for best in year," the girl had replied shortly. "Natsumi, as I recall, you wished to join Hufflepuff as well?"

The light-haired girl had nodded.

"And what of you, Matou-kun? Do you have an idea of which house would best suit you?"

"Well, from what you've said, _senpai,_ I think Hufflepuff seems like the obvious choice."

"Oho, and do you trust everything people tell you?"

"Only when the person telling me is a…" But the boy had trailed off.

"...go on…"

"…a cool, reliable senpai," Shinji had finished, his face going somewhat red.

"Flattery gets you nowhere…at least with me," the older girl had answered, before her lips quirked with a hint of mischief. "Now, Natsumi on the other hand…"

"Miyuki-senpai!"

* * *

It was no surprise to Matou Shinji that when the sorting ended, Natsumi had joined Hufflepuff as well, though he was curious as to why the purple-haired foreigner had gone to Ravenclaw.

The real surprises that evening – unpleasant ones, at least – were three.

First was how heavy the meat and starch-laden Welcome Feast, had been, full of roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, apple pie, chocolate gateau, pumpkin tart and more.

Second was the Headmaster's announcement that the third-floor corridor was out of bounds to anyone who did not want to die a very painful death.

" _Does he often make these sorts of announcements?"_ he muttered to Tsuji Miyuki, who shrugged.

"Last year, he provided a reason. If you are curious, ask Professor Sprout."

"I might do that, thanks."

As for the third…

…well, after Prefect Diggory had shown everyone else into the dorms, Shinji asked if there was a way he could get food that wasn't quite as heavy, whereupon the prefect had kindly led him to the kitchens and demonstrate how one could visit the house-elves working there by tickling the pear on the painting of a bowl of fruit. That wasn't the unpleasant surprise, however.

 _That_ came when Prefect Diggory had asked Shinji to head back first, as he was going to get some snacks for the dorm.

…whereupon Shinji, who had not quite memorized which barrel out of a rather large pile he was supposed to tap in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff' to gain entrance into the common room, tapped the wrong one, leading to one of the other lids popping off, with him being drenched in foul-smelling vinegar.

The boy trembled in silent rage, gripping his wand tightly as he seethed. This was…this was…

"… _Tergeo!_ " a voice called from behind him, with the vinegar detaching from Shinji's robes and streaming…

"Huh."

…streaming into a ball of the substance suspended before the point of Diggory's wand. It took a few moments, but soon enough, Matou Shinji was clean once more, and with a wave, the vinegar was placed back in the barrel, with Shinji securing the lid.

"Thank you, but please teach me that spell," he asked of the Prefect, bowing to him deeply.

"Hey, no need to bow. We're all student," Diggory replied, scratching his head. "As for the spell, I would have thought you'd have learned some basic household spells in Japan, what with being a half-blood and all."

"Different spells in Japan," the boy said tersely.

"Well, in that case it can't be helped. If you want , I'll be happy to teach."

"Thank you."


	3. Books and Brews

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**. _Of Books and Brews_

Matou Shinji wasn't sure quite what to feel as he, and his fellow first year Hufflepuffs, exited Professor McGonagall's classroom following a "Double" session of Transfiguration. He'd been looking forward to the class ever since Miyuki-senpai had demonstrated its versatility and practicality by turning marbles into teacups, among other things, and he'd been quite impressed with the Professor's Animagus transformation – as well as how she'd turned a desk into a pig.

' _I hadn't realized that it was possible to transform yourself into an animal and back again. Maybe there_ is _something to the stories of wizards of old becoming birds, after all…'_

Personally, he was a bit more interested in how to turn things – or people – into various animals, as he'd always thought that _Circe's_ ability to turn men who offended her into pigs to be quite convenient.

Sadly, neither the Animagus transformation, nor transfiguring inanimate objects into living things was part of the first-year curriculum.

Human transfiguration was only taught to Sixth and Seventh years, transfiguring objects into animals was something that they would begin to learn in third year, and becoming an Animagus…was not part of the Hogwarts curriculum.

' _Then again, if it is difficult enough that there were only seven in all of Britain during the past century, I guess that makes sense. And if I can find a way to become one…'_

If he could, well, would he not become renowned as a master of Transfiguration?

'… _though I hope that if I do manage it, I don't become something embarrassingly weak.'_

Like a worm, a guinea pig, or well, even a pig.

He grimaced as the image of Tohsaka laughing hysterically at him surfaced unbidden in his mind. No doubt if he unlocked some humiliating Animagus form – like that of a pig – that would be what waited for him.

Ridicule.

'… _it will be a long time before I am even near the level where becoming an Animagus is practical, so I should just put this out of mind,'_ he told himself, forcing the unwanted memories back into the dark recesses of his mind, back to the shadows where they belonged, as he shook himself visibly.

"Matou-kun?" Natsumi asked from beside him, her dark eyes looking at him with concern. "Are you feeling sick? Do you need to go to the nurses' office?"

"No," Shinji replied, shaking his head. "No," he repeated. "I'm fine. I just…I was just thinking about something weird."

"What about?"

"…how embarrassing it would be if I became a pig Animagus," the boy admitted after about half a minute of silence.

Natsumi's hand flew to her mouth and almost – almost – managed to stifle a chuckle.

"See? You'd laugh at me if that happened too," the Hufflepuff boy said bitterly. "Matou Shinji, the pig."

"…I wouldn't laugh," Natsumi responded, pouting at him.

"Really?"

"I wouldn't!" she insisted. "Becoming an Animagus is a very hard thing to do! Even Miyuki-senpai says so!"

"Heh."

"I was just thinking that you would make a very regal-looking pig, Matou-kun," Natsumi continued, her cheeks pinking slightly. "Like Marten, the pig we have at home."

"…you have a pig?" Shinji echoed. "You're…you don't look like a farm girl."

"Eheh…he's a pet," the girl said, her hands dropping to reveal a shy smile. "My parents bought him before I was born."

"I see…but I notice you still eat pork?" the boy asked wryly, glancing at his companion. "Doesn't Marten worry?"

"T-this and that are two different things!" Natsumi insisted, with Shinji being the one to chuckle this time. "But ah…" She looked over at Shinji. "Did you get enough to eat? You didn't seem very hungry last night…"

"…I'm just not used to how heavy British food is, compared to Japanese food," he admitted with a complicated expression. "That and the _noise_ of everyone eating at once…"

He shivered, recalling the utter din of the Welcome Feast.

"…I'm sorry, Matou-kun."

"…don't apologize. It's not your fault, Natsumi," he sighed. "Its just me not being used to this sort of food." He shook his head slightly. "I think I might just go to the kitchens and see if I can get something made."

"Um…do you want me to come with you?" the girl offered shyly. "You…you shouldn't have to eat by yourself. Just because you don't like British food."

"No. I…I know you wanted to have lunch with Miyuki-senpai, so go to her," Shinji responded, smiling slightly. "I'll be fine. Really."

Natsumi puffed out her cheeks, something Shinji found too cute for words.

"Mou…I can just get _senpai_ to come with us," the girl said, her tone for once, resolute.

"…well, I'm not going to say no, if you insist this much. But…is it really alright?"

"It is."

At that, Shinji could only smile a crooked smile.

"If you say so."

* * *

"What do you mean, I should come by during your consultation hours?" the boy from the East repeated, as he regarded the girl known as Tsuji Miyuki warily. The three of them – he, Miyuki, and Natsumi – were in the Common Room of Hufflepuff, with a sumptuous meal of Japanese food in front of them. "That is…you have consultation hours?"

The older Hufflepuff merely nodded.

"Twice a week, on Mondays and Fridays, after classes have finished for the day, I can be found in the Hufflepuff Common Room," the raven-haired girl supplied. She glanced around and smiled slightly. "At this very table, actually. And yes, tea and light refreshments are provided to any who decide to join me."

"Tea, huh?" Shinji quipped, remembering the freshness and quality of the brew she had offered him on the train. "That's very tempting, though…" The boy trailed off as he thought of something. "You're a second year, right?"

"I am."

Shinji frowned at this.

"Right, so how…no, why, does a second year have specific hours for something like this?"

Things like office hours were more the province of professors, or professionals, not students, so for her to actually have some sort of formal arrangement with the House seemed…odd.

"Originally, I simply wanted some hours to read or reflect in peace, hours in which I was not bothered with homework or gossip," the older Hufflepuff related, her expression seeming quite distant in that moment. "But as I was the best student of my year, peace was not easy to come by."

"…I see," the Matou boy said after some thought. "People came by wanting help, because they had trouble understanding classwork?"

"All the time, yes," Miyuki confirmed, her face growing clouded. "I spoke with Professor Sprout about it, and while she said it was good to help others, she reminded me that I also needed time for myself, so she suggested the current system." The older Hufflepuff smiled, ever so faintly. "It has its advantages, such as a pass to get anything I need from the library, and allowing me to meet all kinds of interesting people."

"Oh?"

"It wasn't just people who needed help with homework who came by. There were older students too, who wanted someone to listen to their troubles, but didn't want to talk to their friends or a teacher," the girl explained. "Trouble finding a job after graduation, troubles with romance, troubles with bullying or such things. They taught me some spells for being willing to listen."

"Spells?" Shinji echoed, intrigued by what he was hearing. "Like what?"

" _Draconifors_ , for one," the older Hufflepuff replied. "As well as some useful charms for household and other work."

"I see," the boy from the East noted, nodding. He could see how those could be useful… "So how does it work, anyway? Your consultation hours, I mean?"

"During the hours provided, I am available for consultation by any Hufflepuff," came the reply. "In exchange for a small fee, whether it is a bit of knowledge, a bit of coin, or something else. This way I am able to help others while not being taken advantage of."

"…I get it. Because its not free, people have to think about what your time is worth," Shinji remarked.

"Yes."

"Mm…Professor Sprout seems very reliable," Natsumi commented, to which Miyuki gave a sharp nod.

"She is. To me, she is the most reliable Professor at Hogwarts," the older Hufflepuff replied. "Even if I'm not especially talented with Herbology, I am…fortunate to have chosen Hufflepuff."

"Ano…Miyuki-senpai, does that mean we can't ask you for help outside of…consultation?" Natsumi asked, looking down. "Or that we need to…" She trailed off, seeming rather flustered. "That we need to pay you something?"

"General consultation is one thing, but friends are another," the other girl said, lifting the other girl's chin to look at her. "And I've always thought of you as a good friend, Nastumi."

"I-I think of Miyuki-senpai as a good friend too!" the younger girl all but chirped, something that made the older Hufflepuff smile ever so faintly.

"I'm glad to hear it," Miyuki noted, before glancing over at lone male at the room. "Well, since you keep Natsumi company, I suppose you're welcome to come to me outside of consultation hours too, Matou. Now…" She turned an eye to the food spread out before them – bowls of ramen, thin slices of roast pork, and something like chicken katsu. "Let us eat before the food gets cold."

Shinji needed no further prompting to dig in, relishing the tastes and aromas of his homeland, which coupled with the spoken Japanese around him, was a welcome reprieve from the feeling of being thrown into somewhere far from home.

' _When I finish with Hogwarts, I'm sure I'll be competent as a practitioner of Witchcraft. But will I really still be me?'_

* * *

After lunch, they headed to their respective classrooms, with Miyuki proceeding to Professor Binns' History of Magic, and Shinji and Natsumi off to Potions with Professor Slughorn. This, along with Transfiguration, was a class he was deeply interested in, as he had read about the effects that such elixirs could have, and knew, from past experience, that creating such concoctions was a major part of witchcraft.

' _Not that they will teach us how to bottle fame, brew glory, or stopper death…'_ Shinji mused, a wry smile crossing his features. _'Potions like those probably aren't something we'd learn until…sixth year.'_

That seemed to be a trend, that the most powerful and interesting things in each field weren't taught until sixth year.

' _Why is that, I wonder?'_

He'd have to ask Miyuki-senpai about it when he had the chance, as he imagined she'd have some idea.

"Something on your mind, Matou-kun?" Natsumi asked as they walked into the dungeon where Potions was to be held.

"Mm, just wondering what Professor Slughorn has in mind for class today," Shinji replied, shaking his head. "I don't think we'll be brewing anything, since it's the first day, but…"

The answer turned out to be an in-class discussion, covering the first chapter of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ , the assigned text for First through Fifth year potions.

It was little surprise that the discussion was dominated by Ravenclaws – or to be more specific, one Ravenclaw: the bushy-haired brunette who had taken an abnormally long time for the hat to sort.

Her name was something like Granger, apparently, and with every question, she raised her hand, as if to rub how much she knew – and how little everyone else knew – in everyone's faces.

' _Who does she think she is?'_ Shinji wondered, feeling especially offended because the brown-haired Ravenclaw had all but interrupted Natsumi when his friend had finally felt comfortable enough to raise her hand.

At least the other Ravenclaws didn't seem so…inclined to show off in such a way, though he noted that the purple-haired foreigner with Egyptian features seemed to know more than she let on, as when called on, she answered a question on the relationship between Potions and Alchemy by mentioning that Alchemical principles and equations could be used to develop new potions and recipes, as long as one knew both what one desired, and the properties of the reagents in question.

"…I'm surprised you knew that, Miss Sokaris," Professor Slughorn said appraisingly, his eyes glancing over at the dusky-skinned first year. "That's certainly not from Chapter 1 of our textbook." He looked like he wanted to say more, but held himself back, as if curious as to what she would say.

"I read beyond the first chapter," was the response, with the Potions Master seeming to accept her answer for the moment, before introducing the potion that the class would be working on over the course of the week.

The Cure for Boils.

For this assignment, Slughorn explained, there would be more involved than simply brewing the potion. And, since this was the very first project they'd be working on, he was willing to offer an incentive for those that brewed the best sample of the potion in question.

"Does anyone know what this is?" the Potions Master asked, as he retrieved a flask full of a pearlescent liquid from his coat pocket.

No one raised their hand.

"This is a week's supply of Mopsus Potion, a concoction that grants you Seer-like abilities and the ability to manipulate objects with your mind," he explained, with the class falling silent at his words. "Granted, it has the side effect of rendering you unable to cast spells or use your magic in other ways while it is active, but as you are first years, I don't think that's a large concern, is it?"

"…no," Natsumi breathed, with Shinji glancing over to see that she – like many of the other Muggleborn practitioners of witchcraft – were staring raptly at the flask in Slughorn's hand.

Others around the room expressed much the same sentiment, with the Potions Master seeming pleased with this.

"Well then, get into groups," he told them. "I'll be around to note down who you are working with and to answer any questions."

Chaos erupted after that, with chairs being pushed back, people going to and fro, and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws scurrying across the room to try and partner with people who seemed like they knew what they were doing.

The most popular choice seemed to be Granger, the bushy-haired brunette who had answered so many questions, with many of the rest swarming towards Sokaris, the foreigner with some knowledge of Alchemy.

' _I could try to work with one of them, but it wouldn't be dignified for me to rush over.'_

Or at least, that was what Shinji told himself, given that even if he did, he would probably be passed over as a partner by the two Ravenclaws. Best to build up his own reputation first, he thought.

He glanced over to where Natsumi was sitting, and their eyes met, before she looked down shyly.

' _Well, I wouldn't mind working with her. Might get me some points with Miyuki-senpai, too.'_

Making up his mind, the boy avoided the throng of students crowding around Sokaris and Granger, as he grabbed his things, made his way over to Natsumi's side, and sat down.

"Want to work together?" he asked, with the girl looking relieved as she nodded. "Great. Let's open up the book and look at the recipe for the Cure for Boils while the others are still picking partners."

But Natsumi didn't reach for her bag.

"Um…it's a bit embarrassing, but I forgot my potions book," she whispered, her cheeks reddening with shame. "Au…I…I thought it would be Defense and History after lunch, and I grabbed the wrong ones…"

Had it been a Thursday, she would have been correct, but as it was Monday, not so much.

"Well…I don't mind sharing..." Shinji offered, grabbing his copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and setting it on the desk. Before he could push the book over to her though, Slughorn came by, seeing that they had formed a group.

"Mister Matou, and...ah, Miss...Suzuki, was it?" the Potions Master asked genially. "You two will be working together for this week's project?"

"Y-yes!" Natsumi responded, a little nervous at the attention.

"Excellent," the man noted, jotting down something in the notebook he carried. He glanced down at the book in front of Matou – and the lack of one in front of Natsumi, his lips twitching slightly. "For future reference, I expect my students to come to class prepared, with each person having a textbook of their own. I find that it helps with in-class discussions, in the not-unlikely event that some of my students hadn't done the assigned readings, or if I need to clear up a point."

"Ah...sorry, Professor," the brown-haired girl said meekly, lowering her head.

"No worries, Miss Suzuki," Slughorn continued. "I am not inclined to be so harsh on the first day, especially not...you are a Muggleborn, yes?"

Natsumi nodded.

"Especially not to a Muggleborn, as you no doubt didn't know any better," he concluded. "For today, you may use one of the books from the cupboard, so long as you make sure to put it back before you leave."

The chestnut-haired girl nodded once more.

"Thank you, Professor."

"No need. Work hard, you two," Slughorn exhorted with a chuckle. "Oh, and congratulations on forming a group so quickly, as opposed to that lot. Once you both have books, please look over the recipe provided, and note down any questions you might have about the ingredients, process, or such."

"Y-yes!"

With that, the Potions Master departed, heading for the large cluster of students on the other side of the room, while Natsumi went to retrieve one of the used books. She seemed excited as she came back to her seat, book in hand – only for her face to fall as she began to examine its contents.

"Auu...someone scribbled all over the pages..."

Glancing over at the book she'd retrieved, Shinji could see that this was indeed the case, with scrawlings and scribbles covering almost every bit of blank space on the pages. What's more, the recipes and explanations of the used book had been thoroughly marked up, with ingredients crossed out, several others inserted, and a running commentary on how the inventor of the recipe must have been an addled dunderhead.

Every chapter had been treated such. Every page. Every entry in the ingredient glossary.

Even the Cure for Boils, the _very first_ recipe in the tome, was no exception, with the scribbler noting that using Pungous Onions and Ginger root instead of snake fangs and porcupine quills would not only make for a potion that was more effective, but which could be brewed in a single session.

"Strange...who would do this to a book?" Shinji wondered aloud, thinking that whoever was responsible had either really liked – and had been really good at – potions, really hated it and wanted to steer other people wrong, or had simply been bored out of their mind.

Flipping to the first page, he could see that the previous owner had been working through a list of what were presumably nicknames, finally settling on something like a prince of halfbloods.

' _Whatever a half-blood is.'_

"...I guess we'll have to share, after all," Natsumi said glumly, as she looked dejectedly at the defaced book. "Sorry, Matou-kun. I should have paid more attention when I was picking out a book."

"No, that's…" the boy trailed off, shaking his head. "Actually, it probably wouldn't hurt to try out the revisions. We have until Friday to finish our potions, after all."

"But.."

"If everyone is using the one in the book, I'm not sure we'll have a chance at getting the prize," Shinji admitted. "And since you seemed so excited about it…"

He didn't quite catch his partner's half-mumbled reply, but he thought it was something about Star Wars and wanting to be a Jedi.

"Well, we can go to the library after our next class and look up the ingredients, to see if the revisions make any sense, before we actually try something."

As they were talking, it seemed that everyone had finally managed to get paired off, with Slughorn returning to the front of the classroom and offering a few more tidbits about the requirements for the groupwork assignment.

Apparently, in addition to brewing a sample of Cure for Boils, each group would also be required to write a short essay on the potion, explaining what the ingredients used to brew it did, and how they worked in combination with each other.

With that, class was over, and so Shinji offered to return the book to the cupboard for Natsumi – though instead of returning the annotated one, he returned his own, so he'd have the opportunity to study it in more detail.

* * *

Once the final class of the day let out, most students tended to return to their common room for a bit of rest or socialization before supper, but Shinji and Natsumi had a different destination: Professor Slughorn's classroom. After all, they'd never been to Hogwarts' library before, and thought that perhaps if they visited the Potions Master, he might be able to give them some guidance as to what resources might be useful as reference materials if they wanted to go beyond what was covered in the textbook.

When they appeared at the classroom, they found the man about to leave for his office, his face seeming quite surprised at the sight of them.

But this was natural, as it was only the first day of class, and generally, students didn't tend to visit professors outside of classroom hours until the week before an exam, during which panicked hordes would flock to their offices asking what material would be covered, what would be expected from them for a practical, or what would constitute an O, as compared to an E. The week _after_ an exam or assignment was returned was just about as bad, given that some invariably took issue with how a professor chose to mark an exam, or choose an answer.

"Miss Suzuki, Mister Matou," he greeted pleasantly enough, taking a step back to wave them in. "Can I help you with something?"

To Shinji, the Professor seemed rather surprised when he asked if there were any books that would be especially good for researching ingredients and combinations.

"The textbook is a good start, but it's only one book," the Matou boy explained. "I want to make sure I'm doing my best for the assignment."

"Heh…diligent of you," Slughorn noted, raising an eyebrow. In his experience, most Hufflepuffs, while diligent about following directions, didn't tend to go out of their way to seek knowledge. But if these two were going to go above and beyond requirements, well, he wasn't about to complain. "As you say, the textbook is a good start, though for this assignment, you might consider examining _The Healer's Helpmate_ by H. Pollingtonious or _Healing at Home with Herbs_ by Phyllida Spore, both of which are available in the library. _Have Yourself a Fiesta In a Bottle_ , despite the name, may also be useful, as it covers some of the basic theory behind combining ingredients for varying effects."

"... _have yourself a fiesta in a bottle_?" Shinji repeated skeptically, sharing a glance with Natsumi.

"That is the title, yes," the Potions Master confirmed. "It was written by Libatius Borage, the same author who wrote the NEWT-level Textbook."

"Ah."

The man smiled, before turning a considering look on the duo.

"Under the circumstances, if you do end up finding an alternative Cure for Boils recipe in one of these other books, feel free to use it for the assignment," he said, after a moment or two. "Both the written and the brewing. And if you can explain the merits of the other recipe as compared to the one in _Magical Drafts and Potions_ , and how it is that different ingredients can lead to the same effect, I may be willing to award some extra credit."

"Oh?"

"You two show great initiative," the man explained. "I think it is important to encourage that."

"T-thank you, Professor!" Natsumi exclaimed, bowing deeply to the man.

"Of course, Miss Suzuki," the plump man replies indulgently. "Oh, and there's no need to bow at Hogwarts. After all, whether student or teacher, Muggleborn or Pureblood, we're all witches and wizards, are we not?"

"Y-yes!"

With that, Matou Shinji and Suzuki Natsumi left the room, with Slughorn making a mental note to pay special attention to the assignment that the enterprising duo turned in later in the week, and to keep abreast of any other waves they were stirring up.

For it was never too early to consider additions to the Slug Club.

* * *

True to their word, the two headed to the library, and after some questioning by Madam Pince about what business first-years had in the library, and what they were looking for (as well as a truly intimidating litany of dire consequences should they deface, destroy, or damage any of the books, up to and including being banned from the library and immediate expulsion from Hogwarts), the two were directed to the section covering Potions books.

Surprisingly, they weren't the first ones there, as one of their fellow Hufflepuffs – Ernest MacMillan – was already present, sitting at a table piled high with books of all shapes and sizes, with the Ravenclaw named Sokaris, paying him little mind as she leafed through a particularly large and weathered tome, taking notes on its contents.

Natsumi, seeing that others were already here – and that they had already grabbed so many books – froze.

"…should we just go back?" she asked timidly, her shoulders trembling at the thought of approaching them and asking if she could share.

"Why don't we grab the books Professor Slughorn suggested first," Shinji suggested. "That way, we have something to offer, instead of just asking for a favor."

"Yes, that's…yes!"

In the end, that was what they did, retrieving the books and offering to share them, if the other two were working on Slughorn's assignment as well.

"Yes, please!" Ernest said in response, while glancing around to make sure Madam Pince was nowhere nearby. "I'm…I'm not getting anywhere with this Golpalott book. Are you, So—"

But Ernest's words died in his throat as he saw the purple-haired girl doing something like writing out an equation that included the ingredients of the Cure for Boils, a less than amused expression on her face.

"A very inefficient formulation," Sokaris commented blandly, her purple eyes narrowing at the textbook. "Like the others in this text."

"…Sokaris?" Ernest questioned. "What do – what do you mean? And what – just what were you writing?"

"You would not understand," was the blunt reply.

"Is this…some kind of math?" Natsumi inquired, her eyes drawn to the paper that Sokaris had been writing on. "For…" Beyond that, she was a little lost, as she had no idea what half of the things meant.

"Stability and potency calculations for the provided recipe," the dusky-skinned foreigner stated. "Jigger's recipes are not optimized for either potency or economy of effort. They are also unforgiving of human error."

"…what _are_ they good at, then?" Shinji found himself asking, his mouth curving in a frown.

"The ritual-like nature of these recipes mean that individuals with little idea of how to manipulate magical energy may achieve consistent results without a clear focus on what they are making," Sokaris explained. "Other combinations require more effort or insight, but may yield superior results."

"…can you show me how you did that, Miss Sokaris?" Natsumi asked, seeming fascinated with how the Ravenclaw at the table had used numbers to reach these conclusions.

"I suppose I would not find it…an unpleasant task," the other allowed. "Macmillan."

"Yes, Sokaris?"

"Are you curious as well?"

"I…" Ernest scratched his head and chuckled nervously, as he held up the book he was reading. "Actually, I didn't catch half of that. I know you told me that Golpalott's work was the basis for this stuff, but…I can't get past the introduction."

Looking between the people at the table, Shinji gathered his resolve.

"Are you looking to change the recipe?" he asked.

"…yes, actually," Ernest admitted, looking at Shinji warily. "That's why we were here looking at references. Or at least why Sokaris told me to come here. Why?"

"We – Natsumi and I – had some ideas along that line as well," the boy from the east stated. "Maybe we could work together?"

The one who answered, however, was not Ernest, but Sokaris.

"I have little reason to refuse."

* * *

The second day was perhaps somewhat more eventful, with the first class of the day being Defense against the Dark Arts, affectionately (and irreverently) called DADA by most students at Hogwarts. As the Hufflepuffs filed in, they noted three things: first, that the room smelled strongly of garlic; second, that Professor Quirrell wore an odd turban, which he claimed had been gifted to him by an African prince as a reward for stopping a zombie infestation; and third, Quirrell didn't seem as inclined as other teachers to show them any ounce of leniency.

"I am sure you all have thoughts on what it means to defend yourself from the Dark Arts," the man intoned, as he looked at each and every one of them, his cold eyes seeming to find them wanting. "For some of you, it may be learning powerful spells of protection. For some of you, it may be finding ways to avoid them practitioners of the Dark Arts and their minions. For some of you, it may be through learning the Arts yourself. Make no mistake - I do not care what approach you wish to take. Whether you see yourself as a future Auror, or a Dark Lord, as a paragon of our society, or a renegade who seeks its destruction, it does not matter - not to me, and not for the purposes of this class. After all, there is no such thing as good or evil. _**There is only power, and those too weak to seek it**_."


	4. Cornered

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**. _Cornered_

When Matou Shinji opened his eyes, he found himself laying on his side, stripped of everything but his undergarments, on the floor of a dark, cluttered room. His arms were bound, there was a foul-tasting gag wrapped around his mouth, and the only light he could see – coming through the edges of a rather inexpertly fastened blindfold, came from a few black candles scattered about haphazardly.

The boy groaned – or started to, before the sound was cut off, with his muscles failing to move, lest they be subjected to torture beyond what humans could endure.

Or at least, beyond what an 11-year-old could reasonably endure.

' _No. I have to…'_

With every movement, liquid agony shot through his limbs, across his chest, down his spine.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

It hurt to move, to think, to _breathe_.

 _'Where am I?'_ he wondered blearily, desperately trying to put power in his legs, and finding that he could not – at least not all at once. _'What...happened?'_

Everything was so...fuzzy, so unclear. He could hardly concentrate at all. All he could tell was this wasn't Hogwarts. But how...how had he come to be here at all? _'The last thing I remember is walking into Quirrell's...'_

Quirrell's classroom. The scenario. _'This is. This is the scenario, isn't it?'_

The scenario…

' _That's right…there was that kind of thing…'_

On the first day of class, Quirrell had proceeded to cover some of the expectations for the course, the reading that would be assigned each week, and the short essays that he expected his students to do...

"But those are not what I care about most," the man had intoned. "I will train you, yes, but I tell you the truth when I say that training alone is nothing. What you learn of how to counter the Dark Arts in the safe environs of the classroom cannot protect you, unless you have not only training, but resolve. The will to act. The impulse to go beyond what is merely required, and the dedication needed to pursue it to its bitter end."

The man had been silent as he looked over at his new pupils, with Matou especially feeling the pressure of his gaze, as it reminded him uncomfortably of his…grandfather.

"This term, you will be tested as you have never been tested before," the Defense Professor had continued. "I will push you to the limits of what you find comfortable, and as far as beyond as your minds can bear, so that when the Dark comes, you will be ready. Ready to fight it – or to join it – whatever your choice may be."

An uproar had begun at his words, with some of the students sputtering protests about how they would never go Dark, even if their lives depended on it.

But that…Quirrell had only smiled.

"Believe as you like – again, it matters not to me," the man had told them. "You may think that there is only one choice, that you would never turn to the Dark, but in truth, it is so very easy to…fall." Quirrell had chuckled then, a low, rather discomfiting sound that had unnerved the boy from the East. "Remember that those who do evil rarely think of themselves as cruel and unjust. They see themselves as heroes, doing evil in the name of a Greater Good. They have made their justifications, resolved themselves to do what is necessary, and so cannot be stopped with words or entreaties. They have goals – as you do. What makes them dangerous is that they are merely unafraid to do whatever it takes to achieve them."

He'd let that sink in for a few moments, as his student glanced at each other uneasily.

"The question is, are you? If and when you face what you see as Darkness, will you have the same resolve as they? The resolve needed to defeat an enemy, to achieve your objective, despite everything it might cost you? If not, I ask of you, why would you think you stand a chance?"

' _Now I remember…'_

"As such, your first assignment will be something of a test," the Professor had said to them towards the end of the first class. "To be specific, over the course of the next week, you will all go through a scenario from the _Book of Spells_ , which students will take in pairs. You may choose your partner from this class, or if you wish, I can assign you one, though your performance will be scored individually. For the remainder of the time we have, decide who you wish to work with, and when in the week you would prefer for your…examination."

Shinji had looked to Natsumi, only to find that Ernest – Ernie – had already chosen to work with her, which left him alone.

' _Right…I told the professor I would work with someone from another class. That I wanted to get the test over with as soon as possible. The Professor told me to come back once classes were done for the day and…'_

…was this the result, then?

' _Feh. It's not as if I can know for sure.'_

After all, this was nothing like some training scenario. He hadn't experienced the transition to the stage. There was no briefing. No voice. No words in the air. No conveniently placed note for him to read – not that he could read anything.

If this is the scenario, there were no instructions to follow. And if this wasn't...? If he'd been kidnapped in truth…

 _'I have to get out of here.'_ Matou Shinji was certain of that much, though how he was going to do so stripped to his underwear, with no wand, or knife, or anything, save his wits, he had absolutely no idea. _'At the very least, I have to get up,'_ he thought, and after what might have been minutes of continuous effort, or hours, he managed to do so, though his legs felt weak as jelly afterwards.

After that…

 _'The rope. That has to be the first step...'_

Or so Shinji told himself, though he wasn't sure how clearly he was thinking, given how badly everything hurt. Still, the coarse lengths of cord wrapped around his arms - with his arms behind his back – were the most troublesome part of his current situation, so he resolved to free himself.

Somehow.

That, unfortunately, was rather easier said than done, especially with a gag and blindfold still covering most of his face, even if he did have the ability to move around a bit, without succumbing to pain.

For a moment, he considered trying to see if the rope was flammable – and if so – if he could use the candles to help get himself free, but he dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came.

Even by some chance it _was_ , setting rope on fire with purple-black flames (probably magical) seemed like a pretty bad idea when it was wrapped around him.

Looking around the room more thoroughly, he could make out a few more details in the gloom. There was something like a large cabinet against one wall, and something that looked something like an oversized stool with a metal pyramid mounted on top, in the place of a seat. Even in the dim lighting, it looked...quite grimy, though the edges of the pyramid looked unpleasantly sharp.

 _'Judas…cradle_?' he thought he recalled. _'What the hell would they have used that for?'_ he wondered, but decided that it was probably better not to think about it too much. 'I guess...it will do?'

Maybe.

There might be something in the cabinet, but he wasn't sure how he'd go about not only opening it, but using whatever he found in there. Maybe if there was a knife or something...

 _'No. I'd probably end up cutting myself.'_

There _were_ several wicked-looking pikes mounted on the wall, but he knew he couldn't reach them. So, he took – tried to take – a deep breath to steady himself, though that only made him dizzy as he breathed through the gag. It felt so tempting to just lay down and… _'No. The rope. I have to cut the rope, then get this gag off.'_

Thus resolved, he unsteadily backed himself against the rather wicked-looking stool in the corner, until he felt the light pressure of contact with the device.

Bracing himself, he moved, sawing the rope against the sharpened edge over and over and over. It took some time, and the sound of it felt like needles in his brain, but…he endured, continuing on and on. And though the rope had seemed rather sturdy, the metal of the pyramid burned what it touched as much as it cut, and soon enough, enough of the cord was severed that the rest fell away with a wriggle and a shake.

It felt remarkably freeing, even as his muscles ached from the sudden influx of blood, and he had to fight to stay upright from the blood leaving his legs and head. Still, he managed to rip off the gag – and was not completely surprised by how much more awake he felt after that.

' _So it was…'_

Yet, even if he was untied at last, that didn't mean Matou Shinji was out of danger, as he heard footsteps coming down what was probably the hall outside this…room.

Step. Step. Step.

The footsteps came closer, closer, closer still, without end, and as they did, Shinji could feel every muscle in his body tense, his heart beating so loud in his chest that he thought it had to be audible even to anyone outside.

 _'What can I do?'_

He had no way to fight off an attacker if one should come through the door. He had no weapons, no tools, and…

' _Shit.'_

After looking around briefly, no place to hide in this odd and cluttered room.

Without any of these equalizers, what chance would an 11-year-old have against whoever – or whatever – put him into this situation to begin with?

' _None.'_

Yes, that was the obvious answer, especially when he was already weakened from whatever had been done to him, his body still wracked with spasms of agony.

 _'There has to be something I can do...'_ he thought, steeling his resolve. _'It can't end like this. It can't._

What _could_ he do? He could go to the cabinet and try to grab something useful out of there, but the noise of moving and rummaging about might betray him. He could try and grab one of the wall-mounted pikes, but how would he even reach one? He could...

' _Come on…there has to be…'_

But there was nothing.

Unable to think of something – anything, the boy could only stand still, waiting, waiting, waiting as the footsteps came closer, before at last, they came to a halt in front of the door.

 _'Oh no...'_

In the next second, he would meet his end.

' _I…'_

In the face of destruction, Matou Shinji couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything at all.

And yet…maybe that saved him.

Maybe the silence of his paralysis was what kept him from being detected.

He didn't know for sure, only that after some indeterminate length of time, the footsteps began again, continuing past the room.

' _I'm…saved?'_

No. There was no way that was true.

This…this could only be a short reprieve from certain doom. To avert it…

' _Information. I need information.'_

With that thought in mind, the boy made his way to the door, biting his lips to keep from groaning in pain as he moved. When he reached it, he put his ear against the heavy wooden panel, to try and hear if the person outside had truly gone away, or if they were coming back.

To his surprise, there was a voice – no, two voices.

One is low and coarse, but the other…the other was aristocratic and refined, with tones sharp as a knife.

"Two, is it?" the elegant voice commented. "That will suffice, though it is a pity that neither of them are Obscurials."

"...I'm…I'm sorry, Master," the other voice seemed to choke out, almost as if terrified. There was a long, pregnant pause, and Shinji could almost imagine this other sweating under the pressure of a fierce glare. "Will…will they suffice for the ritual, even so?"

"...yes," the answer came eventually. "Go gather the others, Wormtail. I will proceed to the basement...to make preparations."

"Your…your will be done, my lord," came the nervous reply.

Moments later, there was the sound of a sharp _crack,_ and then footsteps could be heard once more. Only these were…different from before. While the previous sounds had seemed almost agitated, and uncertain, these were measured and even.

A sound full of purpose.

And these were coming in the other direction – back towards his room – no, past his room, without pausing, going farther and farther away until at last they vanished from earshot.

' _So, there's more than one…'_ Shinji thought to himself, as icy-cold dread flowed through his nerves and veins. _'And…a ritual?'_

The boy swallowed.

He'd read about rituals in the Matou library. Rituals involving sacrifices and unwilling victims. Rituals involving the binding the soul. Rituals…

' _No…it might not be that, but it can't be anything good. I have to get out of here_.'

If there was one thing Matou Shinji had ever been certain about in his life, it was _that_ much.

But…

'… _in my underwear, with nothing? I'll just get killed or captured.'_

As he was, everything would be rendered futile if he encountered any sort of resistance.

' _I need something. Something that can make up the gap between this me and those people. Something strong enough to overturn everything.'_

Not that he was likely to get something like that, but he imagined that he could at least check the rest of the room. Maybe in the cabinet leaning against the wall, he'd be able to find something useful? Resolving himself, he crept over to the large wooden chest of drawers, and tried the handle of the large swing-style doors on them.

To his surprise, it wasn't locked, as—

 _Creaaakk!_

'— _what was that?'_

The sudden sound, something between a groan and a squeak, almost made him jump out of his skin.

' _No. Calm down. Calm down. It was just the hinge.'_

Or so he told himself as he waited to see if anyone had heard, if anyone would come rushing in.

After a few moments of silence, however, the boy let out of sigh of relief and kept on rummaging.

There was little in there he thought might be useful, just uselessly disturbing things like a collection of eyeballs, teeth stained black and red, a shriveled hand, and—

' _Ah. Here we go.'_

In the final drawer, three items that seemed different from the rest.

A wickedly serrated jet-black knife with a handle of worn bone. A length of rope the color of night, woven of some oddly shimmering fibre. A mysterious vial of ebon liquid, icy cold to the touch.

' _These are…'_

These were things he could use.

' _Well, I have no idea what the potion could be, but the rest…'_

A knife could be useful in all sorts of ways, and a rope could be used to bind or to help escape a difficult situation.

It was too bad there wasn't some clothing, since with only his underwear, he had no place to carry anything or to hide his body from sight, but at least there had been _something_ of use. Maybe he wasn't doomed.

He wound the rope around his body, feeling it latch on a bit more tightly than he would have expected and picked up the knife so he wouldn't be completely defenseless – though from the moment he touched it, he felt like something inside him was being pulled into the knife, slowly.

As for the potion...

' _I don't want to leave behind anything potentially useful, but…'_

What would he do with it? What _could_ he do with it when just touching it numbed his fingers and stole his warmth?

' _Then again...maybe I'll put it back_ ,' he reasoned. It would be better to have a free hand, after all - one that wasn't numb and nearly inoperable from being frozen, in the case the worst happened. _'And it still could. I'm under a time limit. If I don't escape before this 'Wormtail' gathers his fellows, I'm done for.'_

Even so, he looked at the potion, thinking about what he wanted to do.

He wasn't going to drink some unknown concoction, he didn't want to risk getting the liquid on his skin, when he didn't know if it was a poison - and he certainly wasn't going to stuff it down his drawers. White-hot cold was not a good thing to have next to...rather sensitive organs, after all.

 _'I guess I could throw it, if I had no other option.'_

In the end, though, that wasn't enough of a reason to take the vial with him, so he put it back where he found it, before opening and closing his fist rhythmically to try to restore circulation to his fingers.

' _I shouldn't get greedy.'_

Taking a deep breath, the boy proceeded to the door, looking over towards the knob to—

' _Huh.'_

There was no knob, and no visible keyhole.

 _'...what...is this...?'_

Of course, such was only to be expected, given that in a house that belonged to a practitioner of witchcraft, one could easily lock and unlock a door with only a wand, but Shinji had never been in such a house before.

' _No…no way. Does it...only open from outside?'_ he thought frantically, his mind going numb. _'Does it need a wand? Am…am I…trapped...?'_

No. It couldn't be. It couldn't be the end. Not like this.

 _'I'll look again.'_

And so, he did, but the doorknob remained stubbornly absent.

 _'...Maybe I should set it on fire?'_ he wondered, as his sanity began to reach its limit. But the boy shook his head. _'No. That's…that's a stupid idea. Setting the door on fire when I'm still in the room. What am I thinking?'_

But then, what could he do? All he had was a bit of rope and a knife.

His eyes flicked down to the obsidian blade for a moment as realization struck him.

' _Right. I have a knife.'_

One that was draining his magical power for something, at that.

' _If it's this…if it's this, then maybe…'_

Recalling something he'd seen in a movie once, he slid the thin blade between the door and the frame, moving it up and down, trying to find the place where the locking mechanism connected to the wall, as—

 _Click._

' _Yes!'_

With the lock released, the door swung inwards just a hair, just enough for Shinji to grab onto the edge and pull it all the way open with a surge of triumph. It was a rather heavy door, but in contrast to the cabinet, it opened silently, revealing a lamp-lit hallway that seemed – for the moment – deserted.

Stepping out into the hall and looking around, the boy could see that whoever owned the house was no doubt well off, given the rich wood paneling everywhere, and the tapestries of odd scenes that included scenes like a wizard trapped in a tree, goblins being consumed by a beast of flame, and a castle that looked vaguely Teutonic being swallowed up by a cloud of darkness.

As to what else was around, at one end of the hall there was a set of stairs heading below, with a window placed above it revealing the shadowy shapes of wych elms, that they were somewhere close to the tree-line of a forest, and that it was pitch-black outside.

' _Am I in the middle of a forest?'_

At the very least, he was on an estate surrounded by trees.

At the other end of the hallway was a well-lit room, with the entrance to it carelessly left open.

' _Perhaps this is where that boss-level character just left…'_

And flanking the walls, there were several ornate, panel-like doors.

Doors much like the one he had just emerged from.

' _No knobs here either, huh…?'_ Shinji thought with a frown, finding it rather frivolous that someone would not even put such a basic thing on a door, though at least the seam between door and wall could be seen easily enough.

The boy was tempted, very tempted, to just head for the stairs and try to make his way out of the manor before something terrible happened, but…

' _No. That would be wrong.'_

Only minutes before, he had been trapped in a small, dark room, bound, gagged, and fearing for his life. And while he didn't know who his partner was supposed to be, only that it wasn't a Hufflepuff, he at least knew that they hadn't managed to escape their confinement.

If so, then the person who was his partner must also be scared and alone.

'… _but where would they be?'_

Logically, the person was in one of the three rooms lining the corridor aside from the one he'd been imprisoned in, but which one? Did he even have the time to try out all of them? No, what if there was a trap hidden behind one? Or a monster?

 _'I don't know how much time is left before Wormtail and his associates arrive...' Shinji thought to_ himself, with the thought making him rather nervous. _'I just know that if I'm not finished by the time they are...'_

That would be the end. He would be made to suffer whatever 'ritual' his captors had in mind.

And even if this was a simulation, with how realistic everything had been so far...

The boy shuddered...

 _'I won't let them catch me,'_ he resolved, his grip tightening on the knife in his hands. _'I mean, when magi fight, its to the death, and these illusions – its not like they're people. No matter how real – I can kill them without becoming a murderer.'_

His gaze dropped to the knife as his expression turned grim.

 _'And if it comes down to it, I'll kill myself. That way they can't finish their ritual.'_

His partner, too, if it became necessary, whoever that person was, for he was certain that they would wish to meet a quick and relatively painless end rather than be used up to power a spell.

 _'I just hope I'm right about the person being one of the rooms along the hall. If the person is downstairs...'_

…suffice it to say that he didn't want to get any closer to the basement than otherwise necessary, as he was reasonably certain that would lead to a rather painful end.

 _'Which door, then?'_

There are three possibilities, and while he could just try opening all of them, he wasn't sure if that would be wise. What if there was something in those rooms other than a captive? A magical beast or creature maybe? What if there was a trap meant for people who tried to bypass the lock? What if…?

' _There are too many_ what-ifs,' he thought grimly. _'Well, whatever. Let's try knocking.'_

With just a few steps, he crossed the hall, his knuckles beating out a sharp rhythm on the ornately carved door before him.

"Hey, is anyone there?" he whispered, trying not to be too loud. "I'm here to get you out!"

But there was no answer.

' _Maybe the door is too thick?'_

Thinking that, the boy tried putting his ear against the entry point, though all he could make out was something like moaning. No words, no cries, nothing that gave him any clue as if it was a human on the other side.

'… _maybe not that one, then.'_

Going to the next door, he repeated what he had just done. This time, what he heard was the faint sound of scratching, something he found a little unnerving.

And from the third, there was no response at all.

 _'Three doors for three rooms. Two obviously have something inside them, but what?'_

Was it his partner, or an enemy?

The boy sighed.

 _'I might as well try out the silent door. Either my partner will be there, passed out from the fumes of the gag, or it will be empty. At least it should be safe, right?'_

Telling himself that, the boy made his way over to the indicated entrance and wedged the ebon blade he carried into the crack between door and frame, sliding it to where the lock mechanism should have latched, as—

' _Aha!'_

— he heard a faint _click_.

Putting strength into his limbs, Matou Shinji pushed the door open, with the heavy panel swinging inward to reveal…

' _No.'_

Before him were worms - innumerable worms. A great rotten living mass of worms, writhing and squirming and slithering about.

 _'No. How? This is...'_

Yes, the sight before him was indeed impossible, and yet...and yet it was before him even so. Worms, hissing. Worms, burrowing. Worms, screeching. Worms...taking the shape of a man. Worms forming misshapen feet, skin, ankles. Worms burrowing into worms, with a sound that he found familiar yet terrifying.

Not a mere handful of worms. Not a mere dozen. Not hundreds. Not thousands.

Tens of thousands. _Hundreds of thousands_.

So many that if a human was to be swarmed by the black carpet, they would not last even a minute, with all their bones and meat taken by the worms, skin melted away, leaving nothing behind.

Yet…the thing forming in front of him did not crumble.

No.

The more worms entered the mass, the more complete it became.

He understood in a flash – whatever was before him wasn't being consumed by the worms; the worms swarming the room were the ones being eaten as the thing made a harsh, grating sound somewhere between a wail and a cough.

The very sound he associated with the flesh and shape of Matou Zouken - the monster that Shinji called...

"…grandfather."

 _'No. It can't. It can't...'_

Somehow, the boy found himself on his knees, frozen in place with terror in the face of the casual disdain the abomination projected.

"Useless," the other spat. "Disgrace to the name of Makiri. Achieving even less than your worthless father. Less than the woman from whose womb you sprang. Useless."

 _'No...'_

"Be devoured."

At the old man's words, the worms surged forward.

Desperation lent Matou Shinji a measure of strength, and forcing power into legs screaming in protest, he managed to spring up and backwards, just before the worms reached him. Yet, that was the limit – and for what? All he'd done was buy himself a second – maybe two.

His back was against the wall, and the worms were following.

He couldn't retreat anymore, unless he ducked back into the room from whence he'd come. He could only…

' _...I can only what?'_

Briefly, ever so briefly, he entertained the thought of rushing over and opening another door, in the hope that maybe he would find his partner and they could help him fight…whatever this was, but that was…impossible. Getting to the stairs, or to the room in the distance – he wouldn't be able to outrun them with his body as it was.

This was the end, he thought, as the carpet of worms swarmed over him – the same fate as had befallen his mother, the same fate that would one day befall his father, the same fate as would befall anything useless.

And in the face of death, the boy _laughed_.

It was a cruel joke, really.

Thinking he had a chance, thinking that he would ever be enough for anyone, thinking that because he would wave about a wand and had read the Matou library, he was anything more than the pathetic being he had been before.

It was a joke – and he – _he_ was the punchline.

And so he laughed. He laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed some more, a sound hysterical tinged with despair, frustration, and all the deep-seated rage of his many years as his skin hissed and the world around him _screamed_.

Everything fell apart.

The worms. The house. Reality itself, crumbling into motes of dust, with a sob, a cry, and cold, cold laughter.

* * *

When Matou Shinji opened his eyes, he found himself on his back, looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

' _Where…where am I? What…happened?'_

He looked around, seeing a large room that looked vaguely medicinal in nature, and…

' _Ah…'_

… _senpai_ sitting on a chair next to his bed, glancing up at him from a rather large volume she was balancing on her knees.

"Ah, Matou, you're awake!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet as she noted that he opened his eyes.

"A…wake?" Shinji repeated slowly, finding it hard to speak. His tried to sit up, but his muscles wouldn't obey him. "I can't…"

"Oh, let me fix that," Miyuki said wryly, as she waved her wand, and he regained control of his body. "Quirrell put you in a full-body bind when you came here. Apparently, after coming out of the scenario, you jumped at him and tried to…" The older girl trailed off, clearly hesitant to say more. "Well, you attacked him."

"I…what?"

As he sat up, feeling somehow pleased that his body was no longer in pain, he frowned, as he didn't remember anything like that.

"After your team finished your scenario, you assaulted him. He said it was almost like you had a knife in your hand."

"...I did?"

"…you don't remember it?" Miyuki questioned, raising a slim, elegant eyebrow.

Shinji could only shake his head.

"I guess he was right when he called you a berserker."

"…I wouldn't know anything about that," he said as he looked down at his hands. "I don't…"

He had…attacked a teacher. Why? Had he…had he lost his mind?

The boy swallowed.

"I…"

…was he going to be expelled? Already? Just after a couple days…?

But…

"Professor Quirrell isn't holding you responsible," Miyuki told him, her words bringing a great deal of relief to his mind. "Fear does strange things to all of us." She smiled, a wry smile, but a smile nonetheless. "He also says that you passed."

"…what?" Shinji blinked. "But I…"

…did he?

"He was impressed by what he saw of your willpower. And how it took several stunning spells to bring you down," the beautiful senpai explained.

"Eheh…" Shinji laughed uncomfortably, scratching the back of his head. "I…did that?"

Miyuki nodded decisively.

"All the same, he thinks it would be best if you didn't attend class for the next week, as he wants to make sure you have time to…cool down, as he says."

"Ah."

"Don't worry. I can tutor you, or if you desire, you can study in the library."

"…thank you, senpai."

"Of course. Hufflepuffs stick together, Matou. Remember that."


	5. Phobos

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**. _Phobos_

After the ordeal of Quirrell's "trial by fire" and the confrontation with what had seemed to be his grandfather, Matou Shinji wanted nothing more than to just take a week or two to focus on putting himself back together. Unfortunately, since there was nothing physically wrong with him, according to Madam Pomfrey, the Healer in charge of Hogwarts' hospital wing, he was forced to at least go through the motions of going to all of his classes.

…every class except for Defense, anyway, for which Professor Quirrell had written him a note, excusing him to do self-study in the library.

' _I guess he's still a little annoyed about me attacking him,_ ' Shinji thought to himself. _'And he wants to give me time to cool off to make sure I don't do it again.'_

Not that he remembered assaulting Professor Quirrell, but then there was a curious gap in his memory between breaking down in hysterical laughter in the scenario and waking up in the infirmary, so he supposed it could have happened.

' _I don't see why he would lie about it, anyway…'_

As for the classes themselves, it went about as he expected: the theory was easy enough to grasp, as had always been the case when he read about thaumaturgy, but the practical aspects he had rather more trouble with.

In Transfiguration, some of his fellow Hufflepuffs had managed to turn their matchsticks into needles, while his own stubbornly refused to change, no matter how much he glared at them, or how he waved his wand.

He found Charms to be rather easier, with the Wand-Lighting Charm coming easy to him, though he had some trouble with Levitation, due to his pronunciation of English not being quite on point.

The first Herbology classes were just a quiz on the reading they'd been assigned for the summer, which he passed with aplomb.

Class-time in potions this week was dedicated to groupwork, with Shinji finding that using the revised recipe for Cure for Boils really did produce superior results to the conventional method in the textbook – and observing with some amusement that some of his peers were so laughably bad at brewing that they melted their cauldrons and were sent to the hospital wing.

' _I don't understand how someone can be so bad at this…'_

Though he did understand how some people might not enjoy History of Magic, given how the ghostly professor didn't seem to know or care about any of his students' names, droned on in a stupor-inducing monotone, and…

* * *

Matou Shinji stirred, his limbs feeling heavy as he blearily opened his eyes.

' _This isn't my bed…'_

He blinked, once-twice-three times, and wiped his face as he lifted his head, trying to figure out where exactly he was. Had he gotten mixed up in something unpleasant again, without realizing it?

Maybe the History Professor was going to test his leadership abilities or his ability to deal with an unwinnable scenario from Magical Britain's past? Maybe he was going to have to fight off dementors or raid some abandoned temple in the middle of a vast jungle or…?

"—tou, wake up!"

A very familiar voice cut through his delusions, as Shinji finally noticed a chestnut-haired girl calling his name and shaking his shoulder.

"Eh?" the boy managed as his vision finally came into focus, revealing that the person who'd awakened him was none other than Natsumi, and that he was in the History Classroom. "What…what happened?" he asked.

Had he…done something bad? Maybe attacked the Professor or something, or…?

"You fell asleep in class!" came the somewhat annoyed reply. "You were even snoring!"

…oh.

It was something that simple, huh?

"Sorry Natsumi," Shinji said, bowing his head sheepishly. "Thank you for worrying about someone like me."

Natsumi's cheeks seemed to redden a bit, though she said nothing in reply as the two made their way out of the classroom and over to the library, where Sokaris and Macmillan, their collaborators for the Potions project, were already waiting.

* * *

Several days had passed since the group had begun meeting after class, yet Shinji still had trouble understanding the methods the sole Ravenclaw of their study group employed to formulate recipes and assess existing recipes for potency and stability, though he didn't deny the validity of her conclusions.

' _Maybe she's one of those once in a generation prodigies. A born Alchemist,'_ he mused, glancing over at where Sokaris was painstakingly writing out equations and explaining her methodology to a somewhat confused Natsumi. _'We mere mortals, on the other hand, must work hard to catch up.'_

Or try to, at least, though a little voice in the back of his head that he squelched as thoroughly as possible told him that no amount of work would make up for raw talent. After all, it hadn't when he had attempted to gain the power of magecraft through study and become the true Matou heir…

"So, do you have any more luck understanding her than I do?" Ernie Macmillan asked, turning from his pile of books to glance at the boy from the east. "Because all this talk of variables, constants, and probability sounds like a whole other language."

"And you're asking the person whose native language isn't English?" Shinji joked, his lips curling upwards slightly.

"Hey, I mean. I thought…" Ernie paused. "You're both foreigners, so…"

"Just because we both come from outside of Britain doesn't mean we automatically understand each other," the Japanese boy noted simply, shaking his head. "Maybe if she mentioned Formalcraft, Circuits, or Dead Apostles…"

Shinji trailed off as he felt someone staring at him, and he looked up to see Sokaris glancing at him appraisingly. She nodded to him, once, before very deliberately looking back to Natsumi and continuing her explanation.

' _You know, I think she spends more time explaining what she does than she's spent working on the assignment.'_

"Formalcraft? Dead Apostles?" Ernie echoed. "What in the name of Merlin's pants are those?"

"Eh, nothing really important," the Japanese boy said, waving off the inquiry. "Anyway, are you still using the encyclopedia of ingredients? I think I need to look up something in it for the essay Natsumi and I need to turn in."

"Heh, that's right – your group is using your own recipe – one that even Sokaris finds adequate," the blond Hufflepuff exclaimed. "High praise, considering what she says about everything in the book."

Shinji smiled a bit, as he remembered Sokaris' rather…uncomplimentary words regarding the sheer depths of ignorance and incompetence displayed by Arsenius Jigger, the author of _Magical Drafts and Potions_. Well, perhaps the words themselves had not been so uncomplimentary, but the tone with which she'd said them…

"Well, given what she found out about _every single recipe_ in that book being…wasteful and dangerous, its hard to blame her," the Japanese boy reasoned, shaking his head. "I knew something seemed off about them, but…"

"Huh, you have some experience with potions then?" Ernie asked, looking at the Easterner curiously.

"Only those involving blood," Shinji said off-handedly, at which Ernie stiffened.

"…blood, huh?" the blond Hufflepuff repeated numbly. "I…I see." The pureblood boy swallowed, before looking down and decidedly changing the topic. "I notice that the recipe you're using doesn't involve blood though, so how'd you come up with it, anyway?"

"Heh, well maybe when you can understand what Sokaris says, I'll tell you," Shinji teased, not wanting to admit that he had just taken the recipe out of a used book that Natsumi had found in Slughorn's book cupboard.

"Well, if you put it that way…" Ernie grumbled, reaching for a thick tome on the Flobberworm and the many uses to which its parts and leavings could be put to use.

After the first day, the group had come to an agreement as to their time and labor should be divided: Sokaris and Natsumi would work on selecting/optimizing a recipe and gathering the resources needed for the project, while Shinji and Ernie would work on the actual essays the groups had to do, translating their notes and observations of the girls into something that sounded like it might have been written by first years.

This was no small task, given the sheer amount of research that they'd needed to do just to understand Sokaris' shorthand notation, and the various potion properties she mentioned – most of which were things that students wouldn't normally learn until sixth or seventh year, when they took Alchemy. Still, slowly, but surely, they'd managed to make some headway in understanding at least the basics, and had supplemented what they could grasp using references concerning healing magic, healing herbs, and mixes of ingredients.

Just a little more and…

"I believe we have made sufficient progress for today," Sokaris said abruptly, with the purple-haired girl beginning to gather up her things. "Let us continue tomorrow."

"Same time?" Ernie asked mildly, having learned that when the Ravenclaw wanted to stop, it was pointless to argue.

"Indeed," the dusky-skinned foreigner agreed. Without another word, she headed off and away, disappearing behind a stack of books.

"Not the most social person in the world, is she?" Shinji observed, once he was reasonably sure the girl was out of earshot.

"She _is_ a Ravenclaw," Natsumi said hesitantly. "I don't know how other Ravenclaws are, but…"

"It's probably my fault," Ernie replied, the outgoing boy's face looking uncharacteristically glum as he thought back to the first day of classes. "I asked to be her partner, but I can't keep up with her. I don't think any of us can."

"She's frustrated, you mean?" Natsumi asked.

"Yeah, that's what I think," the blond noted, shaking his head. "You know, I never did thank you two."

"Thank us?" Shinji echoed. "For what?"

"For kind of understanding her," Ernie supplied, looking down. "Without you two around, I don't think we'd have been able to work together at all. So…thanks."

"Hey, Hufflepuffs stick together, right?" the boy from the east quipped, remembering the words that Miyuki had told him.

"Yeah…that's right," the Macmillan boy said with a faint smile. "That's what Hufflepuff is all about. Unity." It almost seemed like the boy was on the edge of some profound realization, before his stomach ruined the moment by grumbling.

Loudly.

"Mm, should we go back?" Natsumi asked, looking at her companions. "It's almost time for dinner."

"You two go on without me," Shinji offered, shaking his head. "I'll clean up here."

"But—"

"I have some catch-up work to do anyway, since I missed a few days of Defense," he insisted, smiling at the chestnut-haired girl. "That and I just wanted to finish up this last paragraph. Go have dinner, I'll be along."

"You'll be at Miyuki-senpai's consultation hours tonight, right?" Natsumi asked, almost timidly.

"…I'll be there," the boy said warmly. "Now go. Cleaning up is the least I can do after you worked so hard."

He watched them go with a smile, before returning to the task at hand.

* * *

' _Ok, that took longer than I thought, but the books are all back where I found them, at least…'_ Shinji mused as he sat heavily into the chair he'd been in before. _'Dinner is probably about over by now, but I'll just grab something from the Kitchens before I go back.'_

Now that he was alone, he thought he'd take a moment or two to work on sorting out his thoughts, or at least, on clearing his mind, which was the first step towards becoming an effective Occlumens. In the last few days, he'd had limited success at clearing his mind, as every time he closed his eyes, he could see the image of his grandfather condemning him, the image of that _monster_ sending an innumerable swarm of worms to devour him whole.

Needless to say, he hadn't been sleeping especially well either, though things weren't so bad that he felt the need to trouble Madam Pomfrey for a sleeping draught.

This too, would pass.

Or so he told himself, though every time he was alone with his thoughts, he still had trouble concentrating.

At least, not when he was alone.

It was better when he was around others, especially Sokaris, whose ruthless practicality and professionalism kept him grounded and forced him to focus on the task at hand, or Miyuki-senpai, who patiently listened to what he had to say without judgment and encouraged him to work through his issues.

' _There are other people here,'_ he told himself. _'Other people in the library. I should be safe enough here.'_

Even so, he glanced around, as he almost thought he could hear whispers, could feel someone watching him just out of sight, just beyond his ability to perceive.

' _This is foolishness. If I don't even manage to clear my mind, I won't be ever be much of an Occlumens, will I?'_

Or much of a student, for that matter, if he kept letting himself become distracted like this.

He had to focus.

' _The Center. I have to find my center. To reach it. To become it.'_

The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for several long seconds before expelling the contents of his lungs in a long exhalation. He did it again, feeling the stress and tension in his muscles as he tensed them all, his body trembling with the exertion after some unknowable length of time before he let his sinews slack, his posture finally beginning to relax as he breathed.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

And with each breath, letting his consciousness sink into the gloom within his mind, diving deeper and deeper into the darkness. His awareness of the world around him began to flicker and fade, his consciousness shrinking to an infinitesimally small point when—

 _Crash!_

—he was jerked back to the waking world by the sound of books clattering to the ground and a startled gasp.

Irritated, Matou Shinji opened his eyes to see a vaguely familiar Ravenclaw standing before him, her features very, very pale and shining with perspiration.

It took him a minute to recognize her as Granger, the girl who had answered so many of Slughorn's questions that first day, and had taken longer than anyone else to get sorted.

 _'Wait…she's not just pale...she's trembling.'_

Now that he looked closer, he could see that this was so, with her jaw, her legs, her arms shaking as she looked at him. She was even pointing at him, her expression haunted, as if she'd seen a demon, with the pile of books she'd been carrying in her arms spilled to the ground before her.

Wondering just what this was about, the boy spoke.

"Granger," he half-coughed, half-growled, the sound seeming quite harsh, given that he hadn't been speaking much in the last hour or so.

At the sound of her name, the girl turned on her heel and sped away, as if her very life depended on it, leaving Matou Shinji gobsmacked at her reaction.

' _What…the hell?'_

It irritated him, as that was a reaction someone should have his _grandfather,_ not to _him._

' _No, she probably has her own circumstances,'_ he reasoned, trying his best to repress the flames of rage beginning to well up in his chest. _'I shouldn't say anything until I know what they are.'_

Even if she was an unsociable Ravenclaw, surely she had some reason for this, right?

' _I'll just clean up after her, and maybe ask senpai about this…mess.'_

He crouched down to do so, and had just begun gathering up some of the books when Madam Pince, the Hogwarts Librarian, came barreling around the corner, her countenance wrathful and her steps determined. Her scowl only grew fiercer as she looked down and saw valuable tomes carelessly spilled all over the ground, some splayed open, some closed, with some of the pages creased or dirtied.

"Young man," her voice rumbled – Shinji almost thought thundered, except that it was far quieter and the promise of destruction far more immediate and certain. "What exactly happened here? First, I see Miss Granger comes running out of the library, and now I find these books treated with so little regard? Explain."

It hit Shinji then what must have happened.

'… _that bitch. She was sabotaging me,'_ the boy concluded, his jaw tightening as he wondered why the girl would do such a thing. But he forced himself to relax, forced his face to retain at least a semblance of calm. _'Though she looked afraid. So maybe, it was an accident. Maybe…she has her circumstances'_

It was tempting – very tempting to just tell Madam Pince that Granger had dropped the books and then run off, but the boy thought that maybe he'd be generous for once.

"I'm not really sure," he said simply. "After cleaning up, I decided to work on Occlumency exercises. I was interrupted by a loud noise, but when I opened my eyes, there was no one there. Just these books."

"…I see," the librarian said flatly. She looked at the boy for a long, considering moment, before nodding. "Well, if you didn't see, you didn't see, I suppose. Finish cleaning up and then be off, Matou. You missed dinner."

"…I know."

"That's not a healthy habit for a young boy to get into."

"I know."

"Knowing is not enough, Mister Matou. You must practice _what_ you know."

"…I will, Madam Pince," the boy said, looking down. "I'll just finish cleaning up here, though…" He smiled, a bit sheepishly. "I don't actually know where these go."

They weren't his books, after all.

"Just put them on the table and I'll shelve them," the librarian told him. "I don't want to see you back here before tomorrow, is that understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

Things continued in that manner for most of the week, with Shinji attending classes, working on the potions project, and trying to do his Occlumency exercises as often as he could – which wasn't as nearly as he would have liked.

He also managed to schedule a long consultation with Miyuki over the weekend, in the greenhouse she used for her personal research project, as he thought he should probably talk about things with _somebody_ at Hogwarts, and he didn't want to tell a professor about his troubles.

They'd probably think there was something wrong with him, after all, and might ask him to leave the school. Miyuki would probably be more understanding.

' _At least I hope so…'_

By the end of the week, the boy was exhausted, with a combination of the new environment, his nightmares (and subsequently restless sleep), classes taught in English – and interaction with his peers in the same, as well as the Potions project – which had grown into something of a behemoth – all coming together to wear him out.

Still, there were a few things that kept him from going mad.

First, the regular tea-times with Miyuki, who always asked him how his day was going, and who took the trouble to speak with him – and with Natsumi – in Japanese, so he felt a bit more at home.

Second, the scribblings in the used potions book, all of which were fascinating, as he began to find things like spells written into the margins.

' _Spells and curses I've never heard of, at that…'_

And third…well, the fact that, despite the hard work and slow progress, both his group and Ernie's had managed to put together rather remarkable, well-researched essays drawing from a number of very well-regarded sources, going far above and beyond what had been expected for students of their year. Their potions, likewise, were...very impressive, with Slughorn visibly shaken by the purity and quality of what they managed to produce.

"I did not expect to have to give this reward to two groups," the Potions Master declared, as he handed vials of pearlescent liquid to all four of those involved in the joint project. "Nor did I expect to give out a single Outstanding for this first assignment. My policy has always been to give out Es for those who merely Exceed Expectations, but these…" The man smiled. "I haven't seen work of this quality since years ago. Congratulations to the four of you. You may very well have a future as potioneers!"

Natsumi was ecstatic about this, and all but hugged Shinji in front of the class, though she jumps back afterwards in embarrassment, as if remembering where she was. Sokaris seemed to be neither pleased, nor displeased, as if this outcome was merely to be expected, and Ernie…well, he seemed exhausted, but exhilarated all the same, as never in his life had he imagined getting this sort of recognition.

The four of them had beaten every other Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff in their class to claim this prize, and had received Outstandings.

By any account, it was a tremendous achievement, though at least one person in the room – a bushy-haired Ravenclaw – disagreed, her eyes hard as she looked over at the group – and then down at the grade scrawled on her essay.

 _E. Exceeds Expectations._

' _Why?'_ she thought to herself, wondering where she'd gone wrong. She'd followed the recipe in the book precisely, using the glossary of ingredients and their Herbology book to expand on the chapter's explanation of what the various ingredients in the potion did.

 _So why? Why was it not her up there?_

Why was it…

Matou Shinji, feeling someone looking at him, glanced over in the direction of his envious observer, only for her to look away, shrinking in to her seat, trembling as she forced herself to look at her assignment and the lowest grade she'd ever received in her life.

"Hermione, is something wrong?" Sue Li – her partner for the assignment – asked. "I know you're disappointed, but…"

"I-it's nothing," the brunette insisted, though her trembling belied her words. "I'm just – just used to getting better. That's all."


	6. Exploration

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 5**. _Exploration_

Matou Shinji stood at the window of the first year Hufflepuff boys dormitories, staring out at the still dark sky and the land below, swallowed in shadows. His head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache, and his body felt sluggish and unresponsive this morning, as if reminding him that he hadn't slept particularly well.

' _Not that I need the reminder,'_ the boy thought mirthlessly. _'It isn't as if this is something new.'_

What _was_ new was that none of the other first-year males were awake, but given that it was a Saturday and there were no classes scheduled, he could hardly blame them for sleeping in. He would have done so himself, if his body would have let him.

Alas, while westerners were used to having the luxury of a two-day weekend, he, being a proper Japanese boy, had grown up going to classes every day of the week except Sunday, and it seemed that simply being informed that things had changed was not enough to break a habit that had been years in the making.

' _I wish it was…'_ he thought with a heavy sigh. _'I haven't been sleeping enough. Mostly because of the…'_

Dreams? Memories? Nightmares?

Whatever they were, they centered around the mass of worms that was his grandfather's true form. Sometimes they would come for him, tearing him apart. Sometimes they would come for Natsumi or Miyuki, with the bodies of his friends melting before his eyes as he was forced to watch, as a demonstration of how _weak_ and _useless_ he was. Sometimes they would come for an older woman who felt somehow familiar, but who he didn't recognize.

' _I may need a Dreamless Sleep potion if this keeps up,'_ he mused, shaking his head. _'I can't…I can't…'_

Even now, when he was awake, the images lingered in the back of his mind, never fully going away unless he was engrossed in some other activity, like working on potions, or studying anything aside from _Hogwarts, A History_ , as the history text – like Professor Binns' lectures – just sent him to sleep, back to the world of nightmares that plagued his slumbering mind.

' _At least I don't have to worry about sleeping again for a while…'_

Not with his housemates breathing, turning, and snoring all around him, sounds which seemed all the louder in the absence of anything else.

' _Since I'm up, I may as well do something,'_ the boy reasoned, his shoulders slumping as he sighed. _'Maybe a shower? And then afterwards, I'll figure out something I can do with that Mopsus potion, maybe.'_

There had to be something he could do with a potion that would let him control things with his mind, as well as give him Seer-like powers, whatever that meant.

* * *

With a yawn, a now showered and properly dressed Matou Shinji made his way through the underground tunnel from the boys' dormitory to the common room, pulling open the heavy circular door which barred his way, only to pause as he realized that someone was already there, sitting at the table closest to the crackling flames of the fireplace and bent over…something.

' _A girl…?'_

So it was indeed, with the boy recognizing the figure as Natsumi as he padded towards her, though her hair was unbound today. She didn't seem to notice him, given how she was apparently writing in her journal, if indeed that was what the slim green volume with gilt-edged pages in front of her was.

Beside her was a slim glass vial of pearlescent liquid, which in the dim light almost seemed to glow.

' _Mopsus? Did she have the same idea I did?'_

So that he didn't startle her, he deliberately made some noise as he walked, before making his way over to one of the overstuffed armchairs upholstered in yellow and black that were scattered about the room.

"You're up early," he remarked casually, glancing at the chestnut-haired girl.

"It's a habit," came the soft reply. Natsumi didn't look up from what she was doing, as her hand continued to move. "Early mornings on weekends are some of the only times one has any privacy at a boarding school. Especially when you have a roommate."

"Boarding school, huh?" Shinji echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I've been to one of those."

"Besides Hogwarts?"

"Yeah. It was…a few years ago," the boy mentioned, as he turned his attention to the flames, finding the way they danced and flickered arresting, almost hypnotic. "My mother had died a little while ago, and my family had…some other things to take care of."

' _Like adopting the Tohsaka castoff into the family, and training her as the new heiress,'_ he thought bitterly. He was aware that a Holy Grail War had occurred while he was away as well, but he didn't know what had happened there, or if anyone from the Matou had participated.

He hadn't thought to ask, and neither the man who called himself his father, nor the Matou patriarch, were the type to just volunteer information.

"That must have been difficult for you," the girl said quietly, though the sounds of scribbling continued unabated. "Was this in Japan?"

Shinji grimaced.

"No, actually," he replied, his lips pressing together as he remembered what a shock those first days had been. "They sent me abroad for a while." He paused, shaking his head. "To Britain, actually."

"Is that why your English is so good?" Natsumi questioned, raising her head as she turned to look at him. "Miyuki's was a bit poorer when she first came."

"You've known her for a while, then?" the boy asked, blushing a bit as their eyes met.

The chestnut-haired Hufflepuff smiled.

"Yes," she answered simply. "I was her first friend. In Britain, anyway."

There was a wealth of meaning hidden in her words, but Matou Shinji knew that he couldn't even begin to interpret the complexities there.

"Ah…was she always so serious and dependable?" Shinji decided to ask instead, figuring it was a harmless enough question. Dependable – that was definitely a word he would associate with the older Hufflepuff girl, as she not only seemed to have everything figured out, but generously offered her time for consultations with others. Even someone like him, a transfer student who knew little of what to expect in this strange new world.

"Not always," Natsumi admitted with a quiet laugh, a sound that Shinji thought quite pretty.

Shinji looked at her expectantly, but the girl just turned back to her writing and changed the topic.

"And what about you?" she asked.

"Me?" the boy remarked. "I don't think I'm that dependable, really…"

The chestnut-haired girl laughed again, something that really should have made him feel annoyed – though it really just made his chest feel rather warm.

"I mean that you're up early too, Matou."

Shinji smiled wryly at that.

"Well, that's habit too," he explained.

"Oh? From when you went to boarding school?"

This time, it was Shinji's turn to chuckle.

"No…Japanese schools don't get Saturdays off," he related, a wan smile stealing across his lips. "And once I've woken up, I can never really go back to sleep."

"Except in history."

"Well. There's that," Shinji conceded. "But yeah, it's not me wanting alone time or something. I just got used to getting up for class on the weekends."

"…right. Miyuki was like that too, a long time ago," Natsumi noted distantly, as she finished her writing and closed her journal. "She's sleeping better now though. Or I think so, anyway." The girl shook her head. "Anyway, since you're up, what are your plans?"

"I don't know," Shinji admitted, with a helpless shrug. "I hadn't really made any. Maybe…I'll play with the Mopsus potion and figure out what its good for. I hadn't really decided yet." His smile was a bit lopsided this time, given that this extra bit of free time wasn't entirely a blessing. "What about you? I see you have Mopsus with you too."

"I was going to explore the castle. After all, this is a magical school, so it has If it's a magical school, that must mean there are hidden places, right?"

"And you think Mopsus would help you find them?" Shinji asked, somewhat skeptical. "Doesn't that just let you move things with your mind?"

"It's supposed to give you Seer-like powers too," Natsumi corrected, her features bright with excitement. "Telekinesis and future sense – kind of like a Jedi."

"A Jedi?" Shinji echoed, raising an eyebrow as he tried to remember where he'd heard the term before.

"Did you ever watch _Star Wars_?" Natsumi asked, her eyes almost gleaming.

Matou Shinji wracked his memories for whether he had or not. The name seemed familiar, and he thought he remembered seeing something like that involving Rebels and a Death Star, but that was a long time ago, in a land far, far away. His recollection was a bit fuzzy, but he thought he remembered someone with telekinetic powers in that.

A figure in a black suit who looked almost like a samurai, and moved like he was a practitioner of kendo.

"Oh, so…like Lord Vader?" he hazarded.

Natsumi seemed…almost amused at his example, the corners of her lips twitching upwards, threatening to become a wide grin.

"Close enough," she admitted, "Vader _was_ a Jedi once. And he is my favorite character."

"Huh, so Mopsus does that, huh? Neat," Shinji mused aloud. "No sword skills though?" he teased. "No becoming more powerful than an enemy could possibly imagine if you get struck down?"

"No," Natsumi said, waving his words away with one hand, while hiding her mouth with the other. "Not that I think any of the teachers are going to strike us down, unless we go into the Forbidden Corridor on the Third Floor."

"Heh. Well…that's true."

"So um…" the girl trailed off, her expression a little shy. But a moment later she tried again. "Would you want to come with me? It might be more fun than going alone."

Shinji, put on the spot, hesitated. After all, it was the first time a girl had invited him to do something with her, alone, and—.

"I-I understand if you don't want to," Natsumi continued, looking down with her cheeks tinged red, with what he could see of her face…seeming disappointed by his lack of an answer. "Or, if you have something else to do…"

She trailed off.

"T-that's not it at all!" Shinji blurted out, a little embarrassed himself now. "I just…wouldn't you rather ask Miyuki-senpai?"

The chestnut-haired girl pouted and puffed out her cheeks, an expression the boy from the east found quite endearing.

"Miyuki doesn't like getting up early in the morning on weekends," she stated, shaking her head. "Besides, she has to work on her personal project in the greenhouse today."

"Mm…do you know what she's working on?" Shinji inquired, thinking that it was unusual for a second year to have a personal project that needed space in the greenhouse.

"I know she grows some of her tea there," Natsumi replied, shaking her head. "Besides that, I don't really know."

"She grows tea?!" the boy exclaimed, eyes wide. "Is that where she…?"

"Mhm," the chestnut-haired girl confirmed.

Shinji whistled.

" _That's_ where she gets such nice tea leaves from. I hadn't really expected that," he noted, nodding slowly to himself. "That must be a lot of work."

"Well, we are Hufflepuffs," Natsumi offered. "Hard work _is_ what we do."

"True enough," Shinji said. "Anyway, I'd love to go exploring the castle with you."

Natsumi seemed rather pleased by this, the smile on her face evoking a surge of warmth inside him.

"Shall we go then? While everyone else is still asleep?" she asked, as she rose to her feet. "I just have to put away my diary first, if you don't mind waiting a second."

"Well, if you have to do that, why don't I go get Ernie?" Shinji replied, thinking that he didn't want the other boy to feel left out, since he'd been part of the group whose work had let them win the Mopsus Potion. "And we can drop by Ravenclaw Tower to see if Sokaris want to join us."

For a long moment, silence reigned, with Shinji beginning to think that perhaps he had said something wrong, until—

Natsumi sighed, shaking her chestnut tresses as she turned away, and opened the door to the girls' dormitory.

"Ok. Just don't take too long," she called to him. "Or I might just leave you behind, Matou- _kun_."

* * *

As one might expect from being a Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan was not exactly one of the most ambitious students at Hogwarts. But then, he never had been, as he knew he wasn't nearly as intelligent as some of his peers – an assessment that had been proven quite correct when he'd ended up working with the brilliant Sokaris – and despite his house's fixation on hard work, enjoyed his moments of leisure perhaps too much.

In his experience, weekends were made for sleeping, eating, and perhaps having fun with friends, as humans were not meant to wake up when there was no compelling reason. It just wasn't right to ask someone to rouse themselves before the crack of dawn on a weekend – it was downright criminal, in fact!

He'd thought his housemates would more or less agree, given that such was what any right-thinking student his age _should_ think…

…which was why he was so confused to wake up suspended in the air in only his pajamas, his feet unable to find purchase on the floor, or anything, as he floated – floated? – vertically towards the door to the bathrooms.

' _What in the name's of Merlin's socks…?'_

He was about to sputter indignantly when a very familiar voice spoke from beside him.

"Quiet, Ernie, or you'll wake the entire dorm."

' _Matou…?'_

More confused than ever, the pureblood turned to the side to see Shinji casually moving his hands – with the door as he did.

' _What?'_

His sleep-addled brain, still confused by what was going on, was slow to catch up, as the other boy gestured and sent Ernie floating through the opening, before following silently along and closing the door.

Suddenly, what was happening became clear: Matou had taken his dose of the Mopsus potion and was using it to levitate him for some reason.

But…why?

"What is going on?" Ernest Macmillan _hissed,_ loudly enough to convey his displeasure, but quietly enough _not_ to wake everyone up, because then they'd all be angry at _him._ "Where are you taking me?"

He stared daggers at the Japanese boy, but the other only laughed – an eerie sound that unnerved the pureblood Hufflepuff.

' _He's laughing? Has he lost his bleeding mind?'_ the pureblood thought indignantly.

"You told me you would get up," the other said, quite matter-of-factly. "That you just wanted five more minutes. And when, when you didn't, five minutes later, you said it would be fine to give you help."

"Wha…?" Ernie blinked. "I-I didn't say—"

"You did," the other replied with absolute certainty. "I was there."

"When…?"

"When you were laying in bed just now!" Shinji answered him, exasperation writ across his features. "I mean, you kind of mumbled so it was a little hard to understand what you were saying, but when I asked again, you said the same thing. Twice!"

Ernie sighed.

Embarrassment didn't begin to cover what he was feeling right now.

"…and _why_ are you trying to get me up so early? On a Saturday?"

"Because Natsumi wanted to explore the castle, using Mopsus to see if there were any hidden mysteries we could discover?"

"Like what, the Chamber of Secrets?" Ernie shot back peevishly. "You think a bunch of first years will find something that all our teacher missed?"

Shinji stopped in his tracks, letting his control slip as Ernie was jolted unceremoniously back on his feet – barely keeping himself from falling over from the sudden need to support himself.

"I don't," the boy from the east admitted, "but I thought it might be something nice we could all do together after this very, very long week. I mean, we won the potion through our effort, why not celebrate a bit?"

"…well, if you put it that way," Ernie groused, though he couldn't get _too_ mad if it was just Shinji being a bit overenthusiastic. "I at least have time to take a shower, right?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't you?"

"Good," the pureblood answered, running his fingers through his somewhat oily hair. "I'll meet you and Natsumi in the common room in a few minutes then?"

"I'll see you there."

* * *

The group met up some time after that without further incident, with Ernie rather insisting that at this rate, they might as well invite Sokaris along for the adventure. So, after taking Mopsus – and getting the basic hang of their abilities – the trio headed to Ravenclaw Tower, where Natsumi got them past the password riddle easily enough.

Sokaris, however, was nowhere to be seen, and a furious Hermione Granger, incensed at the invasion of the Tower by Hufflepuffs – or at least, one certain Hufflepuff – demanded that they leave, since Sokaris wasn't in – and even if she was – wouldn't want anything to do with people who could only leech off of her brilliance.

Natsumi stepped forward, her expression clouded and angry as began to raise her hand, only for Shinji to stop her with a touch on the arm.

"Granger's not worth it," he said quietly, with the Japanese girl visibly drawing in a breath, before releasing it in a single exhalation.

"Ok," the chestnut-haired Hufflepuff agreed meekly, before turning her back on the bushy-haired Ravenclaw and all but storming out, followed by the others.

"So…where to now?" Shinji asked, as they walked back _down_ the stairs. "Do we want to visit the Forbidden Corridor?"

"…can we please not?" Ernie said dryly. "I don't really want to die a very painful death."

"Did you have something in mind, then?" Natsumi questioned, glancing at the pureblood inquisitively.

"Just that there is a haunted bathroom on the first floor," the pureblood answered with something like a shrug. "One that hasn't been used by anyone in years."

"Oh?" Shinji asked. "What, is this related to the Chamber of Secrets you mentioned?" he joked, only to see that the other boy was completely serious.

"Well, that's the thing. Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who haunts the bathroom? She was a student here last time the Chamber was opened," Ernie admitted. "As well as the last victim. My gran went to school with her…"

"Huh," Shinji said. "That kind of sounds promising. What do you think, Natsumi?"

"Let's go!" the young brunette said cheerfully.

* * *

' _A ghost, huh?'_ the boy from the east thinks to himself uneasily as the group of three approaches the allegedly haunted bathroom on the first floor. Growing up in Japan, he certainly knew of _yūrei_ – the spirits of humans which lingered in the world due to unfinished business – or due to failing to receive the proper funerary rites, and of course _onryō,_ spirits so consumed by wrath that they sought to exact vengeance on any living beings they encountered.

As such, when he had come to Hogwarts, he had been somewhat unnerved by the sight of so many _yūrei_ during the Welcome Feast, as well as the fact that each House had a _yūrei_ assigned to it. In the case of Hufflepuff, this was the Fat Friar, a choice which sat ill with the boy given what he knew about what members of the Church thought of those who could use mysteries not imparted by their God.

Why, the Association and the Church had fought a long war against one another, which had only ended about 150 years ago, when the two sides had negotiated a non-aggression pact. Well, it had ended officially anyway, though Shinji – like any magus – knew that this only meant that the current conflict between the organizations was something of a shadow war, with assassinations, reprisals and other such happening in a very off the books fashion.

' _I don't know how most of the other ghosts here died, or why they're at Hogwarts to begin with, but if this Myrtle died here, murdered…'_

Was it possible that the reason others avoided the bathroom was that this Myrtle was an _onryō_ , a spirit of malice?

The boy found himself wishing that he had purchased the book on _ofuda_ techniques he had been offered by the proprietor of _The Dust Pile_ , the great bookshop of _Mahoutokoro_ , instead of one on protecting the mind and organizing his thoughts.

' _I thought it would probably be too much for me to learn an entirely different way to channel my prana, but here I am, about to walk into a bathroom haunted by an onryō.'_

Sometimes, Matou Shinji questioned his choices in life.

The door wasn't locked, which reassured the boy a bit, since surely if this Myrtle were dangerous, the Professors would have found a way to keep students out of her domain.

'… _though given that the Third Floor Corridor is considered forbidden on pain of death, I'm not sure about that,'_ he thought with a niggling sense of unease.

And the moment they stepped inside…

"Hey!" a shrill voice rang out as a pale specter rose out of the floor, making the boy step back reflexively. "What are you three doing here?" She spun about, hovering around them as the air grew cold in her presence. "Two of you are boys! Go use your own bathroom!"

"T-that's not…" Natsumi began, speaking up, when neither of the others dared.

"Oh, I see," the presumed _onryō_ declared, in tones dripping with sleazy satisfaction. "You brought them here, didn't you?"

"Well, we're here on an adventure—"

"I knew it," the specter declared, invading the chestnut-haired Hufflepuff's space, with her face so close to the other's that Natsumi almost thought she could feel the ghost breathe.

Though of course, ghosts didn't breathe.

"I knew it," Moaning Myrtle repeated. "You brought them here."

"I—"

"You brought them here, so you could all do _nasty, unspeakable_ acts," the specter said with a puerile giggle as she openly leered at Natsumi, her eyes roving up and down the undeveloped Hufflepuff. "Didn't you, little girl? You per- _vert_ "

But the shade of Myrtle Warren soon fell silent when one of the others let out a bark of dark laughter, with Matou Shinji stepping forward – and through her – forcing her to back up and re-form herself.

"Really?" The Japanese boy snorted. "Is that what you're accusing us of doing? It sounds to me like you have a very dirty mind. That _you_ are the pervert."

Myrtle snarled at the accusation, outrage, indignation and raw hurt flitting across her features as she glared at the three students – especially at the Japanese boy who dared to insult her in her own domain.

"You…!" she hissed, her ghostly form turning a very interesting shade of dark silver, her hands forming themselves into claws. "It's not funny!"

But Shinji only kept laughing.

"It's not funny!" the specter repeated, beginning to rise into the air. "You dare…you dare make fun of me! My life…my life was nothing but misery and now you come here to laugh at me? I'm going to tell Filch about what you're all are up to," she hissed, her lips drawing upwards into a cruel smirk. "About how you three came to this bathroom and how I caught you all committing depraved, lecherous acts!"

Turning about with a huff, Moaning Myrtle began to make for the wall, only to freeze in midair, a look of shock appearing on her face as her hands reached for her throat, as if trying to pry off an invisible set of hands.

 _'Huh? But...she's a ghost...'_ Shinji thought to himself, feeling rather confused. _'How...'_

Glancing to the side, he saw Ernie looking similarly astonished, so it couldn't be the other boy doing something.

 _'It can't be Natsumi, can...?'_

And then his mind froze as he turned and saw the chestnut-haired girl beside him with her arm raised, her hand outstretched as if gripping something tightly.

Something like a throat.

 _'Is she...?'_

Shinji looked back at Myrtle, only to find that the ghost was writhing in mid-air, her mouth flapping open and closed, as her hands clawed desperately at the invisible hands on her neck. But try as she might, she couldn't get out any words – any cries for help, any demands, any threats – and neither could she free herself.

"Uh...Natsumi?" Ernest Macmillan asked dumbly. "What…exactly are you doing?"

"Stopping this monster from carrying out its threat," came the cold response.

"But..."

"It's a _yūrei,_ practically an _onryō._ And it threatened us," the girl continued, her expression hard, even as her hand squeezed tighter and tighter. "It has no right. No right at all to bully people who weren't the ones who killed her."

"Bully?"

"I've never liked bullies," she added, tightening her grip yet further, as Myrtle's eyes budged out, the specter's expression one of agony. "Whether it's a person or an evil spirit wearing one's shape, they pick on people because they think they're weak."

"Um..."

"If she wants me to stop, the spirit just has to promise that she'll stop trying to get us into trouble," Natsumi stated calmly, her voice oddly calm as she regarded the apparently suffering ghost. "Ghosts shouldn't need to breathe anyway, so she's probably just pretending to choke to make us feel bad. Aren't you, Myrtle?"

The ghost frantically shook her head, as if rejecting the assertion, but did nothing else. The chestnut-haired Hufflepuff, quite annoyed that the ghost wasn't showing any signs of surrender, was just about to clench her hand into a tight fist, when Shinji intervened.

"Natsumi," he said, turning to his friend – his first friend at Hogwarts.

"Yes, Matou?"

"...I think she'd had enough," the boy stated, seeing that despite Natsumi's look of resolve, the girl's body was trembling.

The girl stared at the ghost for a long moment, before glancing over at the Japanese boy, and with a nod, opened her hand.

Moaning Myrtle hung motionless in the air before the trio, her eyes glazed over as she looked in their direction, unseeing, utterly still.

"...what was that?" the specter asked after several long seconds, her voice nary more than a whisper.

"What was _what_?" Shinji answered, looking at the ghost challengingly, noting that Myrtle wasn't shaking, wasn't rubbing her neck in pain, wasn't coughing at all.

' _Was she just pretending then?'_

"You touched me," the ghostly girl continued, her voice low and hoarse. "You touched me...touched a young maiden." Her face twisted into a rictus of fury. "You, you _perverts!_ "

All at once, Myrtle explode into motion, rushing at the trio – intending to push past them, and out into the hall, but the moment she started moving, her form froze once more, jerking higher into the air – and then crumpling, her vaguely human shape being squeezed into the form of a small silver ball.

Said ball went spinning through the air, careening about the room, to and fro, becoming a blur – an then crashing through the sink – and the wall beneath it – into whatever part of Hogwarts beyond.

"Nooooooooo!" Shinji could make out faintly, the sound of the ghost's shrill wail coming to him faintly, as if through stone, before it abruptly cut off. "What…a tunnel?" came a distant mutter, before silence fell once more, leaving the three Hufflepuffs alone in the bathroom.

"Let's get out of here." The Japanese boy's words resonated with the group, with Natsumi agreeing as she clings to his arm, and Ernie in no mood to stay after what he'd just seen. "Ernie, where to?"

"…let's go to the Lake," the other boy suggests. "Maybe we can…walk on water or something?"

Natsumi smiled weakly.

"Sure. That sounds fun."

* * *

And so it proved to be, with the trio exorcising some of their worries as they experimented with the limits of what Mopsus could do for them as they left the castle. They used bursts of force to speed themselves up, to help them leap further, pull themselves forward, anchor themselves to keep from falling.

They made panes of force so they could walk on the surface of the lake – or least appear to – while playfully splashing each other, with waves they controlled with their minds.

At one point, Natsumi lost her concentration at after being hit by a rather large spear of water, and was knocked off of her small field of invisible force into the water.

Fortunately for her, she was quite capable of swimming – though of course, the Giant Squid, which lived in the lake, didn't know that, and thought she needed help, enveloping her with its tentacles.

Shinji would have acted at once, but for the sight of the tentacles, which for some reason made his face had gone a little red.

But before he – or Ernie – could do something rash, the squid seemed to realize something was wrong, as it made a coo-ing sort of sound, and gently raised the girl up to Shinji, who held out his arms – and received her in something like a princess carry, with the help of the Mopsus Potion's telekinetic control.

"…uh, thanks," the boy said, nodding to the squid, even as he flushed violently.

The many tentacled monster faded from view, leaving the three alone again.

And in the silence…

"Heheh," Natsumi giggled, with Shinji joining in, as did Ernie a moment later, at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Laughter washed away the tension of the morning, and echoed over the lake, as the three walked – well, two walked, and one was carried – towards the other side of the lake.

"You can put me down now," Natsumi whispered shyly, quietly enough that only Shinji could hear. She was rather red herself, just like the boy in whose arms she was being carried. "I know I'm probably…a little heavy."

"Not at all," Shinji replied, finding his words again. "It's not so bad, really, holding you." He said this carelessly, before backpedaling as he caught sight of her wide-eyed look. "I mean...um…no…you're not…" He trailed off. "I can manage," he settled for saying at last.

"Tehehe," the girl giggled again. "If you say so, Matou-kun."

He carried her till they reached the shore, her warmth driving away his inner demons for a time, keeping the memories of the past well at bay – mostly because he found it hard to think about anything else at all.

The rest of the day was a time of fun and adventure, with the trio eventually deciding to use telekinesis to sculpt first sand sculptures, and then rather intricate champions made of water, which they had duel one another in a mock battle worthy of the ages.

* * *

In the distance, a young bespectacled blonde peered at the group with clear green eyes, as she leafed through the pages of a book from under the shade a towering beech tree, at the edge of the lake.

Her lips curved upwards, and she laughed a little, a pale echo of the rich sounds of merriment that had come across the glassy surface of the water – and which were still coming.

' _That looks like fun,'_ she thought to herself, clutching a vial filled with pearlescent fluid. _'Quite a bit of it.'_


	7. Entangled

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 6**. _Entangled_

For Matou Shinji, a boy used to jungles wrought of concrete and steel, shaped by human hands, stepping into Greenhouse #7 - the building set aside for personal projects - was one of the strangest experiences he'd ever had in his life. Certainly, it wasn't as splendid or grand as seeing _Mahoutokoro_ for the first time, nor did any of its plants give off the impression of being quite as magically potent as what grew in the City Under Earth. And yet, the rich scent of life was unmistakable, with the dappled light coming through the lattice of vines clinging to the glass seeming like it came from entirely different world.

"...wow," was all he could say, his eyes wide as he looked around at all the colors, all the many living things about - though there was one thing that was decidedly not alive, and that was the small desk he saw leaning against one corner of the greenhouse, with a shaft of morning sun illuminating it, and an ornate chair growing up out of the ground near it. _'Huh. Odd..'_

"I take it the view meets with your approval?" Tsuji Miyuki inquired, as the elegant older Hufflepuff walked into view, wearing a simple beige shirt and shorts ensemble, with her long, raven-colored hair bound up in a long ponytail.

"Yes. It's...amazing," Shinji admitted, once he finally found his voice. "This is...this is where you work? When you're not in the common room?"

"Yes," the older Hufflepuff said with a nod. "It is." She paused for a moment, as she glanced about and smiled ever so slightly. "A place that is mine, and mine alone, away from prying eyes."

"I wish I had a place like that," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. And then a thought came to his mind. "I see its well-lit at daytime, but what about at night?"

Tsuji Miyuki pointed upwards, and looking more closely, Shinji could see pale crescent-shaped blossoms emerging from the leaves of the vines. "Moonseed," she said simply. "It stores up light by day, and releases it when it is dark. It is, however, quite poisonous, so I would advise you not to touch. After all, is it not said that even the most beautiful rose has thorns?"

"But you don't, senpai," the boy replied earnestly, to which the older girl laughed.

"You only say that because you haven't been pricked yet, Matou," Miyuki rebuked, shaking her head gently. "Perhaps you never will be, but who can say?" The girl sighed at that, and brushed past the younger boy to pick up some tools she'd left in one of the drawers. "In any case, you wanted to talk, right? Away from listening ears? Sit, then, and we may speak as I work."

"Sit where...?" Shinji wondered, looking about.

Did she mean for him to sit on the ground?

"On the chair, Matou Shinji," the older girl directed patiently. "There's no need for more than one of us to get dirty today. After all, you haven't done any gardening in Herbology yet, have you?"

"No," Shinji admitted, before moving to do as she asked.

The chair, made of something like woven reeds, looked rather fragile, so before he sat, he tested it with his finger to make sure it wouldn't break under a bit of pressure, but when it did not, he allowed himself to ease into it, finding to his surprise that it conformed to his shape, and was really quite comfortable.

While he did this, Miyuki got to work, crouching on the ground besides what looked like a row of plants.

"Tea, if you were curious," the Hufflepuff girl volunteered, answering the boy's unspoken question. "Now…tell me what troubles you so."

Matou Shinji took a deep breath, even as he watched the older girl work, examining her plants with evident care, trimming away any wilted leaves, smoothing petals here and there, with one plant not resembling tea at all.

"Mopsus plant," she explained. "The result of one of my personal projects."

"Mm," Shinji noted, thinking about how he could lay out the basics of his complicated family situation – or at least as much as he felt comfortable telling anyone. "When I was born, it was thought..." he began, before trailing off. "No, that's not…" He sighed, shaking his head. "I was...I was supposed to be..." But his words failed him again, and he sighed with frustration. "I was born into a long line of magi," he managed at last.

"Go on," the girl encouraged.

"I was the heir..." he whispered, though his body shook as he said that, as if to reject his statement for the lie that it was. "Well, I should have been. Thought I was." He looked down, swallowing, as he found it difficult to speak. "But..." He took a deep breath. "But..."

His body tensed, his throat clamming up, almost choking him, as if unwilling to let him speak another word, every muscle in his body clenching down tightly, from his heart to his limbs to his eyes, as his head throbbed.

He could hear it, the rhythm of his heart growing unsteady as it raced onwards, out of control, as though it sought to rip itself out of his chest and flee screaming into the abyss.

He…he…

"Tell me," a voice murmured, close to his ear, as a comfortable warmth settled on his shoulder, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. _'Senpai's hand...'_ he realized, finding in her warmth the strength to at least open his eyes, only to find her standing before him, looking at him with an expression of raw concern.

"They adopted... _her_ ," the boy managed, with more heat in his voice than he wanted to show in front of the perfect girl in front of him.

"Her?" she echoed, wiping a stray hair from her eyes.

"My... _sister_ ," he growled, as a shudder ripped through him, unbidden. The boy went silent for a minute – which turned into two, then three, then five. "My replacement," he whispered, when he finally spoke again, his hands clenching into fists despite himself.

"If it's any consolation, you seem as capable as any first-year," Miyuki offered, but Shinji trembled as she said that, brushing away her hand.

"...so what?" he asked, his voice almost hollow. "I didn't...it wasn't enough." He swallowed. "It was _never_ enough. Nothing that I did. Nothing. No matter how hard I worked. No matter what I tried. No matter...no matter..."

He swallowed again as his breathing went ragged, his chest heaving up and down as Miyuki stood there, bidding him to go on with her eyes.

"They looked at me," he said, his eyes going unfocused as he thought back into the past. "They looked at me. They looked at me with eyes full of...full of..." A sound escaped the boy's lips, a high-pitched thing that came in uneven, hitching intervals – almost a laugh, save that there was nothing joyful in it, or in his face, pale and gleaming like moon. "...full of pity! Pity! Pity! Laughing, laughing, laughing laughing laughing behind my back! Grandfather, Father, _her_...they threw me away. _**They threw me away**_!"

His last few words were snarled, as the boy found himself on his feet, his posture like that of a caged and wounded animal, as his eyes darted to and fro, his teeth bared, his pupils narrowed as a thin haze of black and red threatened to overtake his vision.

A low, dangerous growl escaped his throat unbidden as…

"And your mother?" the older Hufflepuff asked gently.

The boy whirled towards her, every muscle tensed as if to spring, only to hesitate as her figure filled his vision, and her words seemed to register.

"My...what?" Shinji murmured distantly, looking utterly lost for the first time, as he swayed back and forth on his heels.

"Your mother," Miyuki repeated, with the boy shaking his head, shaking his head, shaking his head.

"I..." the boy began, but stopped. "She…" he tried again, but couldn't find the words. " **Dead,"** a voice said, both his own and not, all at once. "Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead dead!" he repeated, the words spilling out uncontrollably, bursting out from within him like a dam had broken and nothing could be held back. "Dead," he echoed. "Dead," he said again, his voice a desolate tone full of heartbreak and loneliness. "I don't...I don't remember her. But I know she died. I know she left me alone."

"Matou..."

"I didn't have the talent to be heir," he continued after some time, his posture looking almost human again, though his voice was hollow. "And so, everyone threw me away. Threw me away, after lying to me for years, and years and years." He laughed, a twisted, broken sound almost like two jagged metal edges rubbing against each other. "It must have been quite a game. To let a useless lump of flesh delude itself into thinking it could be more than what it was. That I could be more than what fate made me. A nobody. A waste of space. A failure who would be better off dead. No…a failure who should never have been born."

The boy smiled then, as he looked away, off into the distance.

"I was overjoyed the day I learned I could be...the day I received my letter," he said quietly. "Thinking maybe, maybe, maybe this could be my chance. That after all these years..." He sighed, turning back to Miyuki. "But you know, in my first challenge here – I failed. I…saw…I saw..." Something dark and twisted came over his features, as he convulsed, falling to his knees. "Never…mind what I saw," he gasped. "I… failed. I failed. And Matou Shinji…Matou Shinji…!"

The world went dark.

* * *

Sometime later, the boy stirred, though he didn't feel like moving at all, as he was utterly exhausted, worse than he'd ever been in his life. Yet he knew he wasn't in his bed, as his head was cradled on something soft and warm, and he could smell a sweet fragrance coming from all around him.

"Are you finally awake, Matou?" a gentle voice called from...right above him, with the boy mustering the effort to lift eyelids heavy as stone, only to inhale sharply as he found himself looking up at Miyuki-senpai's warm eyes.

Her lovely features were framed by the ebon curtain of her hair, and in the dappled light of the sun, she looked…magical.

"Senpai..." he murmured, too exhausted to move from where he was.

"I was worried," came the soft reply, with the boy shivering again for an entirely different reason as he felt delicate fingers running through his hair, brushing against his scalp.

"Sorry...for worrying you..." he managed, trying to look away and hide cheeks which felt like they were on fire. "What happened...?"

The fingers stopped then, with the girl saying nothing for a long moment.

"You don't remember?" she asked, her expression almost troubled. "Or rather, what's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember mentioning my...my _sister_ ," Shinji admitted, his voice taking on a dark twinge, before he shook his head. Even that was very, very fuzzy, and beyond that... "But after that...nothing."

"Nothing, you say?" Miyuki was quite concerned by this. "That's the second time in a week you've had trouble remembering what happened."

"...the second?" Shinji repeated, puzzled by this. If this was the second, then what had been the first? "I don't...I don't understand."

"You saw something in Quirrell's challenge," she said, instead of answering. "Do you remember what it was?"

"I..." the boy stiffened, seeing in his mind the mass of worms, seeing the terrifying visage of his grandfather, hearing the accusation of how he was a failure, an utter—. "Yes..." he gasped out, his body trembling. "Yes," he repeated, in a very small voice.

"And do you remember what happened afterwards?" Miyuki pressed.

"...I remember waking up in the hospital wing, with you next to me," Shinji said. "You told me I attacked him, but I don't..." The significance of that statement hit him then. "I don't remember. I…I haven't been able to concentrate either. Or sleep. Or practice my Occlumency, really."

"Well, for one of those, I'd tell you to go see Madam Pomfrey. For others…have you often suffered from memory loss before, Matou?" the older Hufflepuff asked gently, wincing just a bit.

"...no. No, I haven't..." the boy whispered. If the last time…if the last time, he'd attacked Quirrell, did that mean that this time…? "Did I..." he swallowed, almost afraid to ask. "I didn't...attack you, did I?"

But Miyuki didn't reply immediately.

"...senpai?" the boy asked, a creeping horror rising in his gut at the thought that he might have…that he might have…that unbeknownst to him, with his own two hands, he... "I..."

"You didn't hurt me, Matou," the raven-haired girl said at last, her voice, gentle and fearless, causing all of Shinji's strength to drain away as she answered him at last.

"...thank goodness," Shinji murmured, tears rising to the corner of his eyes. "Thank goodness," he repeated, his breath hitching as he nearly broke down in relief. "I...I was so afraid..." Afraid that he'd done something...unforgivable to one of the few people who had actually bothered to give a damn about someone like him. "I…" He laughed, a bitter sound that was barely audible. "I'm sorry. I showed you something unsightly."

"Don't be worry, Matou. I'm honored that you trust me this much," Miyuki murmured, her fingers running through his hair once more. "Though you are a strange person, Matou, to trust a near-stranger so."

"Am I really so...strange?" he asked, his voice almost breaking. Did this _senpai_ he admired really find him so odd?

"Everyone is strange in this world," the older Hufflepuff mused aloud, looking up at the sky. "After all, as humans, we are born alone. We die alone. And yet in between, all of us seek some sort of connection. Some seek peers to walk with. Some seek lovers to hold. Some seek enemies to fight, rivals to challenge, mentors to learn from, or students to teach. We know that no matter what, these connections are temporary, that in the end, nothing at all will remain, and yet…"

She trailed off, her tone almost wistful.

"…are you strange too, then, senpai?" Shinji found the courage to ask.

"Who can say?" the girl asked, a powerless, haunting laugh escaping her lips, a sound whose beauty none could deny, yet which seemed unbearably lonely.

To Matou Shinji, it was the both the most terrible thing he'd ever heard and the most bewitching.

* * *

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur, with Shinji managing to finally get some rest at last with the help of a few doses of Dreamless Sleep. As for the beginning of the week, perhaps the most curious thing that happened was that all of the first-year students finished Quirrell's challenges, with the man posting a public list of those who had passed.

From Hufflepuff, these were Matou Shinji, as well as Natsumi Suzuki and Ernest Macmillan (of which the latter two had used the Mopsus potion to their advantage, reasoning that a challenge that was difficult for a muggle would probably be trivial enough for a Jedi).

From Ravenclaw, these were Sialim Sokaris and Nigel Wroxton, with some wondering how Nigel – a student who had gone on leave for a year, thanks to a severe case of Dragon Pox (and complications due to being allergic to the treatment), and who was still not fully recovered, had managed to beat it when so many others had failed.

From Gryffindor, there were the muggleborn twins, Amber Noel and Phelan Noel, the second and third children of the Earl of Gainsborough.

And from Slytherin, there was the muggleborn, Selina Moore, who was said to have cold-bloodly sacrificed her partner to distract the Death Eaters and earn her escape.

When they read this, those in Hufflepuff let out a resounding cheer for their representatives, given that they – with the most people passing, and thus the most points earned in the challenged, would earn a one-time waiver for any single assignment.

Their applause and adulation made Shinji smile, even if he knew he didn't really deserve to be on the list, that Quirrell had just put him there for some odd reason.

' _Well, I won't spoil their excitement. That wouldn't be right. Not for someone like me.'_

His smile that day was a brittle one indeed.


	8. Collaboration and Confrontation

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 7**. _Collaboration and Confrontation_

In retrospect, Matou Shinji had been both shaken and reassured by the incident in the greenhouse. Shaken, because he now realized that there was something very wrong with him, given that he didn't think it was normal for people to just lose portions of their memory when they became angry or overly emotional – and because what Miyuki had said about him not _hurting_ her didn't mean he hadn't _attacked_ her, or tried. Reassured, because in the aftermath of whatever had happened, and all the things he had said, Miyuki-senpai still saw him for who he was – didn't think of him as something worthy of pity or fear.

' _Someone sees me as me. As someone who is worth_ something, _in spite of everything_.'

She had first encountered him on Platform 9¾, as a youth in secondhand robes who in retrospect, had looked…lost and out of place, and yet she'd gone out of her way to invite him to sit with her, shared her experiences and more.

' _She is so kind…'_

Strong too, although there was a brittleness there she didn't really show to others, a side he'd only briefly seen in the greenhouse. For he remembered the powerless, haunting laugh that had spilled from her lips at the end, a terribly hollow, lonely sound, yet bewitching all the same, temporarily banishing the other worries and cares in his mind as his senses – his awareness – was consumed by _her_.

The boy shook his head, hoping no one would take note of the tinge of redness on his cheeks, even as Natsumi shot him a concerned look.

"Are you alright?" the chestnut-haired Hufflepuff asked him timidly. "You're not going to fall asleep here, are you?"

"Please, this is Herbology, not History," Shinji quipped, as his friend huffed and puffed out her cheeks in displeasure.

"Yes, but…even if its History…" she mumbled, shaking her head, clearly thinking that he shouldn't be sleeping in _any_ class.

"Natsumi," he said, as she turned at the sound of her name. "Thank you for worrying about me," he said with a charming smile. "It would be a bad thing if I got in trouble with our Head of House, eh?"

"W-who's worried?" the girl shot back, before sighing. "Y-you're welcome, Matou."

"Oh, congratulations on beating Quirrell's challenge," the boy noted sheepishly. "Sorry I didn't say it earlier, but…"

"We had History before this," Natsumi cut in, her expression very wry indeed. "You weren't up for saying much of anything."

"…well, yes," Shinji sighed. "Say, how did you do it?"

While he'd been listed as "passing", he knew he didn't really deserve it, given that the last thing he remembered was being assaulted by innumerable worms before…

' _Before another worrying gap…'_

A gap in which he'd somehow managed to defeat the opponent before him, and complete the scenario as a whole, only to attack Professor Quirrell once it was over.

' _Did I see him as a threat…?'_

But his thoughts were distracted by the sight of the chestnut-haired girl's full lips tugging upwards into something like a smile, as the rather sly expression that resulted didn't seem to belong on such an innocent girl.

"While we weren't allowed to use our wands, no one said anything about any potions," she said impishly.

"…Mopsus," Shinji realized. "You took Mopsus for it."

"Mhm. The challenge was pretty easy, for a Jedi!" Natsumi noted brightly. "I don't think the Professor expected Ernie and I to be able to sense danger and move things with our minds."

"And that's not…" Against the rules, he wanted to say, though he knew he would have done it too, if he'd had the opportunity. Sadly, since he'd been one of the first ones to attempt the trial, he hadn't won the Mopsus yet, so…

"What is it the Professor likes to say?" Natsumi reasoned. "That there's no such thing as good or evil, only power…?"

"…well, true, if he complained about you using Mopsus, he'd be kind of a hypocrite," Shinji agreed, shaking his head. "Though many people are."

"He seems nice enough," Natsumi hazarded. "There were some teachers back in boarding school…"

But she trailed off, as Professor Sprout entered the classroom, with both Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs falling silent as the short, black-haired woman's gaze swept over them.

With an almost imperceptible smile, she nodded.

"Good afternoon, everyone," the Herbology Professor greeted them.

"Good afternoon, Professor," the class chorused, though none with too much energy – as might be expected when class occurred just after one of Hogwarts' usually heavy lunches in a rather comfortable classroom.

"Now, I know how much you were all looking forward to more readings from _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi,_ as well as reviewing your assignment on the _dos_ and _don'ts_ of gardening… _"_ she began, with the class groaning as expected. No one liked tests about safety, after all, especially when this one covered why dragon-hide gloves were an essential part of the gardener's arsenal, why one should squat instead of bend over (because it was better for one's back), that one should be sure to drink plenty of fluids if it was warm, and so on. "Which is why we're not doing that."

Shinji perked up at this, his eyes narrowing as he considered what this could mean.

"Now, as you may remember, gardening is more fun with a partner, so I'd like you to take the opportunity to choose to work with over the next few weeks," Pomona Sprout announced, frowning at how the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had so neatly segregated themselves from each other. "Someone from another House, that is."

She briefed them about how things would go over the next month, with one section of the class meeting in the classroom for the first week to learn some of the basic spells that would be useful for the rest of the year, while the rest learned the basics of gardening through routine, hands on work before switching over the next week, and so on.

The class murmured in excitement, happy to finally be doing _something_ more than reading – only there was some trepidation as well, as they didn't really know anyone from the other Houses.

"I'll let you have the rest of this class to pair off," Sprout continued. "Just come to me when you decide who you want to work with."

For a moment, everything was perfectly still, before, like a dam breaking, everyone began to move all at once, with a great mass of people bearing down upon a very few.

In retrospect, it was only logical – none of the people in the class really knew those from the other houses, and so they defaulted to going after the ones they knew of as excelling in one way or another, and thus wouldn't be a burden to work with: those who had "passed" Quirrell's little examination.

At the time, though, no one had anticipated this, so Shinji – like Ernie and Natsumi – found themselves rising from their seats and backing up against the wall as a veritable tide of strangers came at them, all babbling for one of them to be their partners, as their voices mingled together in a grand headache-inducing cacophony.

One of the first to reach him was a freckled boy with a mop of red-hair, though he didn't really seem excited to be there, or to have to work with a Hufflepuff.

Another was a dark-haired boy who mumbled something about having a long bottom, whatever that meant, and kept looking down at his feet.

The third was a dark-haired girl who seemed rather tall for her age, who looked at him appraisingly, as if wondering how good he really was.

But their words and actions were drowned out by the sheer press of the mob, the crawling _humanity_ of which unnerved him, almost sending him into a panic, before—

"Can we not be civilized about this?" a high-pitched voice cut through the din, with the crowd falling silent in the wake of the sharp rebuke. "We are a house of lions, not a pack of unruly mongrels!"

Surprisingly, the mob seemed to shrink inward at her words, with the Gryffindor first-years stepping back, both to clear some space for the overcrowded Hufflepuffs, and to make way for two brown-haired individuals with striking green eyes. One was a girl who wore her hair almost like a braided crown, with segmented bangs in the front, and seemed the very picture of noble poise. The other's hair was…messy, was the best way to put it, and was much more carefree, though for all their differences, they were obviously twins. Just as obviously, it was the girl who had spoken, with the boy glaring at those who had irritated her – leading the other first-year Gryffindors to mumble hasty apologies to what he imagined was the girl, as he didn't think the boy would be called "Lady Gainsborough."

In the span of but a few moments, the pair made their way to the area where the three Hufflepuffs had been crowded, with the eyes of the imperious green-eyed brunette of Gryffindor turning to a certain chestnut-haired figure.

"Natsumi?" she questioned, features brightening as she realized that she knew the person she was looking at. "Ah, so it is you. It has been some time since we were together at Malvern St James."

"Lady Gainsborough," Natsumi replied with a curtsy. "I thought it might have been you at the Sorting, but I wasn't sure until I heard your fellows speak just now. You don't tend to use your given name much."

"Even if I am not the heiress to the Earldom, I am still entitled to my courtesy title am I not? At least, until the age of majority," the other returned.

"True enough, but then you understand why I wasn't sure if Amber Noel was really you," the Hufflepuff girl answered. "Not when you sign everything as A. Gainsborough."

"I'll grant that," the now identified Amber said, with her stern expression softening to a smile. "It's good to see you, Natsumi."

"And you, Amber," Natsumi replied with a good bit of warmth and confidence that made Shinji wonder if this was the same Natsumi who so often blushed and had trouble talking to boys.

' _Right. They're old friends, I guess. From boarding school.'_

"I heard a rumor that Miss Tsuji was here was well?" the earl's daughter inquired, her eyes intent.

"Yes – we're both in Hufflepuff. She's a year above us though," Natsumi told her.

"Ah. It would be good to see her again. I have missed our tea-times together," Lady Gainsborough said warmly. "Let's make some time for that, shall we, for old time's sake?"

"Yes!"

"Now then, won't you introduce me to your friends?"

"Lady Gainsborough, and…Phelan," the Hufflepuff girl said, looking to both of them. "My friends from Hufflepuff, Shinji Matou and Ernie Macmillan. Shinji, Ernie, Lady Gainsborough is one of my friends from boarding school."

"A pleasure to meet you," Shinji said with a bow and a flourish. A friend of Natsumi's was a friend of his, after all.

"Phelan is her brother," the chestnut-haired girl added, whereupon the male of the twins frowned, wrinkling his nose.

"…did you have to put it that way?" the male of the pair groused, running his fingers through his hair. "Honestly…" He glanced at the trio before him. "Well, Amber, I take it you'll be wanting Natsumi as your partner, rather than some 'commoner?'"

"I wouldn't have said it quite like that, but it would please me to work with an old friend, if you wouldn't mind, brother?" Amber replied, with a question for question, whereupon Phelan shook his head.

"Of course not, sister. I wouldn't want to get on your bad side," the boy said roguishly. "Well," he amended, "further on your bad side." With that he looked to Ernie and Shinji. "Gentlemen, it seems I'll be working with one of you. Such a pleasure to meet other blokes who don't see the wand as the be all and end all of magic."

"Yes, a pleasure," Ernie greeted, offering his hand, which Phelan shook enthusiastically. "Ernie Macmillan."

"Phelan Noel, at your service," the other offered grandly, before turning to Shinji.

Shinji, of course, just bowed again, for if Amber was an Earl's daughter, then surely that made Phelan the Earl's son – and perhaps even the heir, no matter how flippant he was about the prerogatives of nobility.

The Gryffindor boy sighed but nodded, as if he expected as much.

"Ah, you're that type, are you?" the brunet asked with a wry expression. "Charmed, but I think I'll be working with Macmillan. I'm sure there are enough others who would like to partner with one of those who passed the Defense Professor's challenge, yes?"

With that, the boy took Ernie aside, as Natsumi was taken by Amber, leaving Shinji in the midst of a rabble of Gryffindors, clamoring – politely – for his attention.

Shaking his head at the absurdity of this situation, the boy closed his eyes and pointed randomly. When he opened them, he found that everyone had stepped back except the shy dark-haired youth who had been speaking about long bottoms – the boy he was pointing at.

"Me?" the other all but squeaked.

"…yes, you, Mister…?"

"L-Longbottom! Neville Longbottom!" the Gryffindor replied, seeming rather shaken to have been singled out, not stirred.

' _Ah…that was his name. Not that he had a long bottom or liked long bottoms. I'm glad we cleared that up, or that might have been awkward.'_

Not that Longbottom himself didn't seem awkward, but he'd take what small blessings he could get.

"Well, Neville, let's get along, shall we?" Shinji noted smartly, gesturing for the crowd to part so he could talk to Professor Sprout – which surprisingly, they did. "Anyway, which did you want to work on first, learning spells or the basics of gardening?"

"G-gardening, please," the other said. "I like working with plants."

"Plants it is then," Shinji quipped, as they made their way through the crowd to Professor Sprout, hoping he wouldn't regret working with this Longbottom fellow, but thinking that the very least, he seemed inoffensive.

It wasn't as if the choice would prove that all important anyway, he reasoned, since really, how badly could someone foul up Herbology?

* * *

And then there were flying lessons.

Like anyone else who knew anything about witchcraft, whether muggle, magus or what have you, Matou Shinji knew something of how they flew on brooms. Of course, he'd never expected to learn how to do so for himself, but he supposed there could be something useful in learning how to fly.

…though on balance, he really have preferred to learn unassisted flight, since he didn't think it would be particularly convenient to have to own a broom, but Madame Hooch had just looked at him and said in a bone-dry voice that only one individual in all of Britain's history had been capable of _that_ particular feat.

Sadly, when he asked who that individual might have been, so that he might learn from him – or her, the flight instructor's expression had tightened, with the woman refusing to speak more on the matter.

' _I'll ask Miyuki-senpai. She'll probably know who that person was.'_

Or at least, he hoped so.

For the moment, however, he looked upon his classmates uneasily as some of them managed to call their brooms into their hands on the very first try, while he had…shown rather less success.

' _Come on….'_

Natsumi had been the first to succeed, followed by Su Li, one of the Ravenclaws.

Others followed suit, one by one, naturally pairing off as they rose into the air or – at the very least – got their brooms to jump into their hands and hover. One after another, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws paired off, choosing partners to work with for the rest of the term, as Hooch had deemed it more practical for students to be able to watch one another and enjoy some friendly competition.

There were only ten minutes left, and only four people had not chosen or been chosen.

One of these was Sokaris, the dusky skinned foreigner he had worked with for potions, and he was just turning to her to suggest pairing off when he was rudely interrupted by one of the others – a rather frail looking youth with very pale skin, greyish hair, and pale grey eyes, who looked at the purple-haired girl with a shy, awkward smile.

"You sure you don't mind?" the other boy asked, seeming almost embarrassed. "I...I don't want to hold you back, Sokaris."

"You are not," the dusky-skinned witch replied, her words and gentle tone making the other boy perk up. "It is no trouble, Nigel."

 _'Nigel?'_ Shinji thought to himself, his eyes widening as he remembered where he saw the name. _'Wait...he was on the list.'_

Nigel Wroxton. One of the two Ravenclaws to have passed Quirrell's challenge - presumably as Sokaris' partner.

' _But…he wasn't in Potions…'_

Or at least, Shinji didn't think he'd been, which struck him as very odd indeed. Still, if those two had a working relationship, it wouldn't do for him to get in the way, since he knew that without Sokaris' help, he wouldn't have done nearly as well in Potions as he had, so he turned to see who the last person was, the smile freezing on his face as he laid eyes upon a rather frustrated bushy-haired brunette who was some distance away from everyone else, still trying to get the broom to jump into her hand.

 _'Granger.'_

It seemed the fates had played an interesting trick on him, given what happened last week. Or perhaps it was a blessing in disguise? Perhaps he would finally get some answers for her behavior, since it seemed they would be working together for the rest of the semester.

Steeling his resolve, he made over to the girl, who was so focused on her broom that she didn't notice him approaching her.

"Granger," he greeted, only to frown as she didn't seem to notice him. "Granger," he repeated, reaching out to touch her arm – only to rewarded with the sight of her flinching back with a _shriek_ , her expression twisting into a rictus of terror as she fell to the ground and tried to scramble away.

He stepped forward, concerned about her reaction, and the girl began to scream at the top of her lungs, only to cut herself, her face paling as his expression changed from a mild frown to an outright scowl.

Before he could do anything else, his line of sight was blocked, as Sialim Sokaris walked past him, over to the girl, crouching down beside her.

What the two of them said, he couldn't quite make out. All he knew was that Granger passed out moments later.

' _I really don't understand what's wrong with that girl…'_

"...well, that's not going to do at all," a voice murmured from close beside him, with Shinji turning his head to see the frail form of Nigel Wroxton standing there. "Say, did you do something to her?"

"No!" Shinji exclaimed. "I mean, no. Not that I can remember."

"How troublesome," the other grumbled. "I'll warn you, I won't be much of a partner, and I'd much rather work with Sokaris, since she knows my circumstances," the frail boy said quietly. "But it is clear that you and Granger aren't going to work out. So. I suppose...I should offer," Nigel added, with a bone weary sigh.

"…I appreciate it, thank you," Shinji replied after a moment. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry." And then he thought of something. "I don't remember seeing in Potions?" he probed, trying to see if there was a story there.

"I haven't gone. Health reasons."

"Oh?" Now Shinji was curious.

"I came down Dragon Pox last year, when I first started Hogwarts," the other related with a complicated expression. "I nearly died, you know?"

"I'm…I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. I lived, didn't I?" Nigel asked with a wan, fleeting smile. "It was…bad. I was in St. Mungo's – the wizard hospital – for most of the year, since I was allergic to the usual treatment."

"…that's possible?"

"Sadly. The healers who tried to cure me nearly killed me instead."

Shinji winced.

"Oh, I know they meant well, but…well," the boy shook his head. "If it wasn't for Headmaster Dumbledore, I wouldn't be here right now. He's an expert at Alchemy involving Dragon Blood, and came up with a way to cure the Pox without killing me."

"I see."

"Didn't fix everything though," Nigel murmured. "I'm back at Hogwarts, but…being in the hospital that long takes a toll, you know?"

"Yeah."

"You say that but…" Nigel shook his head. "It's not even just the classes. I'm a year older than most of you, but I'm a year behind everyone I was sorted with. I don't fit in with them anymore, or with…most of you."

Even now, the boy suffered from both a lack of stamina and a rather sensitive gut, which could not tolerate the heavy fare served in the Great Hall. Further, he had trouble making it through a day of classes without becoming exhausted, and for medical reasons, was exempt from attending Potions or Herbology classes, since no one wanted to risk his condition turning for the worse.

"Still, I don't want anyone's pity. My mind is as sharp as any Ravenclaw, and rather than I can't do, I think it's better to focus on what I can."

"Oh, and what's that?"

Nigel smiled.

"Ancient Runes," the boy said. "Arithmancy. All the strange things one can find in books. They were my only friends during my time in St. Mungo's you know. Books. Even if now, I have Sokaris. And maybe…you?"

It didn't take much for Shinji to say yes.

After all, someone who was looking for a place for himself – someone who had lost so much, was so powerless in many ways, and yet strove to become something more, to make something of himself – that description could well fit another boy at Hogwarts.

Him.

* * *

After the chaos of Herbology and the drama of Flying lessons, Matou Shinji was grateful when Potions finally came around, as this was a class he felt comfortable in. A class where even if Granger glared balefully at him for some strange reason, it wouldn't affect his concentration as the man went over the previous week's assignment in detail, before saying that he expected them all to do better this week, with the Wideye Potion.

This concoction, Slughorn told them, as the name implied, was one that was greatly prized by students having issues staying awake in history – or studying for any other class. Once again, he called for students to work in pairs, choosing a recipe, explaining how the components worked together to create the intended effect in an essay, and brewing the potion.

And in terms of prizes, well, this week, the man upped the ante.

For the best potion, the man offered a choice between a sample of Mopsus and a sample of the Aging Potion, the latter of which allowed a drinker to assume an older form, dependent on how much one imbibed, provided that the potion scored at least an E.

In the rare case that the best potion obtained the score of O, then the group could obtain both.

Naturally, since the man did want to see how people worked as individuals, he also stipulated that he would like people to work with different partners this time, as it would be hard to assess one's individual abilities if one was always being tested in conjunction with the same partner.

For some, this was a troublesome thing indeed, as they had expected to work with the same person once more, but it wasn't at all for Shinji, since he had more or less settled on who he was going to approach.

Sokaris.

' _I more or less have to grab her, or someone like Granger will steal her away...'_

He'd noticed the brunette eyeing the dusky-skinned Ravenclaw ever since he, Natsumi, Ernie, and Sokaris had all been recognized by the Professor as doing outstanding work, as if Granger suspected that their success was all due to the purple-haired girl.

 _'That damn Granger is looking down on me. Down on all of us...'_ he thought to himself, his jaw tightening as he remembered how she had tried to sabotage him before, whether by dropping a stack of books in the library and leaving him to deal with Madam Pince's wrath, or by throwing a fit in Flying to draw Sokaris' attention, so the purple-haired girl would be _her_ partner during flying lessons. _'She thinks she's so high and mighty, but I don't see_ her _in the library studying. Or getting Outstandings.'_

The boy slipped a note to Natsumi, who he was sitting next to, asking her to partner with Ernie this time. She glanced at him and nodded, though her expression clearly wondered what he would do - whereupon he glanced over at Sokaris, as her eyes widened in understanding.

He noticed Granger, who had apparently been watching him, frowning as she saw him looking over at the dusky-skinned Ravenclaw, and found himself taking a savage joy at seeing how she flinched from his lupine smile.

As such, when Slughorn finished up his instructions and gave the class time to assemble into pairs, Shinji was already on his feet, making his way over towards Sokaris, who hadn't bothered moving at all, save to look over in his direction, as if expecting him.

Hermione, on the other hand, all but darted across the room, reaching her quarry a moment before he did, glaring at him defiantly as if challenging him not to take another step forward – as if she was telling him that Sokaris was _hers_.

That unprovoked willfulness – that presumption that he would just back down – was simply galling, so Matou Shinji just kept on walking, advancing slowly and deliberately as he looked her in the eye and smiled, baring his teeth.

She'd stolen away his intended partner once.

He wouldn't let her get away it this time.

Granger's body shook, but the girl stood her ground as he came closer and closer, her face growing paler and paler as she seemingly found herself struggling to stay standing.

The very same way she'd acted in the library.

This time though, he wouldn't bother addressing her.

"Sokaris," he said pleasantly, greeting the dusky-skinned Ravenclaw.

"Matou," the other replied, looking at him expectantly.

 _'Well, if she wants it, there's no reason for me not to ask...'_

"Want to work together for this project?" the boy inquired, playing his part.

"You would not be...unacceptable," the other answered neutrally, nodding.

"But...Sokaris...!" Granger squeaked out in protest, only to fall silent, her eyes widening in horror as Shinji turned his attention on her. "You don't...if he's making you..."

"Granger, your assistance is neither needed nor desired," Sokaris noted, without turning to look at the brunette, who staggered, almost if someone had knocked the wind out of her, even though the Egyptian girl's statement had been said quite matter-of-factly, devoid of anger or any other emotion.

"The library then?" Shinji continued, deciding to follow Sokaris' lead and act as if Granger had not spoken.

"Yes."

"I will see you there, Sokaris," the boy confirmed, giving her a small smile, as Hermione just stood there, her expression blank, seeming utterly lost.

The rest of class went on and on, with Hermione eventually settling on another partner, and after what seemed like a small eternity, Matou Shinji was finally free to go to the library, only to find that Sokaris had beaten him there, and was already waiting with a small pile of books before her.

"You have a recipe in mind," she stated by way of greeting, her eyes seeming to look right through him.

"I do," the boy replied, taking his annotated copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ from his bookbag and handing it to her, watching as she flipped it open, one eyebrow rising as she flipped to the appropriate page.

"Intriguing," his partner allowed. "Your notes?"

"I only wish it were so," Shinji answered, shaking his head. "Instead, I stand on the shoulders of giants. Speaking of which…" The boy chuckled, a bit sheepishly, as Ernie and Natsumi came into view. "Would you mind working with the others again? With something like the same arrangement from last week?"

"Do they have a recipe of their own?" she countered, her voice almost curious. "A useful one?"

She seemed to imply that if they had nothing to offer, then she wasn't particularly interested.

"Ah...yes," Shinji began, though he fell silent as she looked at him – almost through him. "Uh, that is..." he tried again, only for his words to fail. "Look, last time, you and Ernie brewed and researched a recipe of your own devising, while Natsumi and I worked on one of ours," he managed. "I imagine that we could work out something like that, with Natsumi and Ernie working on one, and you and I on the other."

"I see," she said noncommittally. She didn't seem terribly receptive to the idea, but neither did she seem very opposed. "Tell me, is it simply recognition you desire, Matou? Or respect where you had none? Is this what drives you to partner with me?"

This time, it was Shinji who almost flinched, the question on the tip of his tongue dying unspoken as he was fairly sure she would not answer. At least, not if he didn't answer honestly.

And well, if she wanted the truth, the truth was simple.

"I want to learn the methods you use," he answered, quite honestly. "To be able to do calculations like that, to evaluate a recipe at a glance. To have the grounds to be as confident in the Craft as you are."

"I see. And…?"

"…and I want my family's recognition, since I was passed over for the position of heir," he admitted.

"I see," the purple-haired girl repeated noncommittally, though she made no protest as Natsumi and Ernie sat down their way to the table. She greeted them with a nod apiece, and then asked if Shinji wishes to work on calculations with her, or if he would prefer to simply obtain books and help with the write-up, as per last time. "So long as you do not prove a burden, neither would be disagreeable."

"A little of both, if you don't mind."

"Then let us begin."


	9. Official Introductions

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 8**. _Official Introductions_

As the days flew by, slowly but surely, Matou Shinji began to get used to the bizarre yet increasingly familiar environs of Hogwarts. It helped that he wasn't alone, that he had people he could call friends, or at least, acquaintances – people who respected him for his contributions and treated him well, unlike _Tohsaka_.

Academically, he excelled, with his group of four continuing to produce excellent results for the rest of the month in Potions, as Sokaris' calculations, coupled with the surprisingly insightful suggestions in the used copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ he'd acquired from Slughorn's cupboard, allowed them to brew concoctions that far surpassed the quality of anyone else in the first year.

Their essays weren't slouches either, of course, given all the cross-referencing and fact-checking they did, and were, if nothing else, more _detailed_ than Slughorn was used to reading from first-years, given Sokaris' insistence on precision, and Shinji's insistence on doing enough to match her contributions to the group – even if he left the writing of the final copy to Natsumi and Ernie, as wasn't his first language.

The group's continued _tour de force_ was met with rather mixed reactions, depending on who one asked.

Professor Slughorn was delighted to have such excellent students, with his eyes shining brighter and brighter every time their creations upstaged those of the rest of the class.

Shinji's fellows in Hufflepuff were just tickled pink that a group made up mostly of Hufflepuffs was eclipsing the efforts of the Ravenclaws, who had so often clung to their academic prowess as something that set them above others.

Most of the first-year Ravenclaws attributed the success of the group to Sialim Sokaris, as the enigmatic foreigner had not only proven herself to be rather intelligent on the occasions she did speak, but spent most of her time with Nigel Wroxton, the odd returnee who had supposedly read through the contents of an entire magical library during his hospitalization.

(Some even believed the rumors that he'd beenhospitalized _because_ he'd opened a cursed book while sneaking around in the Forbidden Section of the library, and that he'd been assigned a helper because they were worried that without supervision, he'd go and do it again.)

And Hermione Granger, of course, thought the group was no doubt cheating, as no one could do so well. Sokaris…well, she was capable of high quality work, she'd grant, but the Hufflepuffs? It just wasn't possible. There couldn't possibly be four such brilliant students in a single class; it was far more likely that they were paying or performing some other favors for an older student to do their work for them, or at least, had an older student's notes to work from.

Frankly, the whole situation made her _seethe,_ as she hated seeing cheaters get ahead, especially _Matou,_ that…that user and brute! After all, if he wasn't cheating – if he was _really_ that brilliant, he would be the talk of all the teachers, standing at the pinnacle of every class, and well, he wasn't.

Transfiguration, for one, was a class in which his best efforts only produced middling results, though seemed to have a special talent for untransfiguration, for _undoing_ transfigurations.

In Charms, he did quite well, even if not to the level that he did in Potions.

In Defense, the boy found Quirrell's teaching style to be quite interesting, as the Professor enjoyed posing various scenarios from history to his students as written or oral exercises, without telling them where or when they were from, to prevent them from gaining any hints as to how to pass them from History (not that this would help Shinji, who continued to sleep through Binns' classes, much to Natsumi's disappointment – though at least he was no longer snoring!). The exercises were quite challenging, too, especially to first years with little grasp of what exactly certain spells could do, or all the uses of various potions or ingredients, but if nothing else, it drove them to be creative, to look deeper, and to make sure they thought before acting (as Shinji had long lost track of the number of his classmates whose scenarios ended with them being "eaten by grues", swarmed by inferi, or cursed by some flesh-eating spell because they weren't careful).

And in his spare moments, the boy often spent time with Miyuki-senpai, finding that he felt more at peace around her than around others, as if her presence sheltered him from some of the worries and cares of the world. Sometimes, they'd garden together, as the activity was quite therapeutic. Sometimes he'd ask her about her life before Hogwarts, or her goals. Often, they drank tea.

Mostly though, they worked on Occlumency, together with Natsumi, using Miyuki's private greenhouse space so no unruly Ravenclaws would come barging into disturb them.

' _It's a little cute how Natsumi has trouble focusing…'_ he sometimes found himself thinking, as the chestnut-haired girl just plain didn't _like_ meditating much, preferring to be going about and exploring the castle – or sometimes, just having tea with Amber. _'_ Senpai _though…for her, it seems effortless…'_

The boy sometimes laughed as he realized why that might be.

With her love of tea and her Japanese heritage, Tsuji Miyuki had no doubt been exposed to the art of the Tea Ceremony, which at its core, valued harmony, respect, and tranquility, with everything having a proper place and time.

"When one is in a place, focus one's attention to that place, to what one is doing," Miyuki-senpai had told him, soon after learning of his studies. "Whether it is a place in the world, or in one's mind."

"A…place in one's mind?" Shinji had repeated.

"With Occlumency, you are learning to protect your mind from intrusion, correct?"

Shinji had nodded at this, as that _was_ why he had started down this road, though as of late, the bit about Occlumency helping him with remembering things had become somewhat more attractive given his…issues.

"Would thinking of it as a place make it easier to protect?" he'd questioned.

"Is it not easier to imagine defending a place you can see? If your mind was a house on a plot of land, you could imagine building a wall around it, setting traps, locking the doors."

"…and I would link each of these imagined things to something I'm actually doing."

"Yes."

"And how would that help me remember things?"

"Do you remember what portrait is on the second-floor corridor just left of the stairs?" Miyuki had asked, a seemingly unrelated question.

Shinji had closed his eyes for a moment, as he remembered the location in mind, picturing himself walking up the stair, turning left and—

"The Fat Friar."

"And how did you remember that?"

"What do you mean?" Shinji had asked. "I just thought back and retraced my steps in my…mind." The boy jolted upright, eyes widening in realization. "What you're saying is…I can do this with other things. That if my mind is a place, and I tie objects in it to memories, I can remember things by just…walking through it?"

"And if someone else was trying to find certain pieces of information, you could arrange it so they never would, by changing how…say, a house was laid out."

"That's…you're amazing, senpai," the boy had whispered, his cheeks red. "I never would have thought of that. I kept getting stuck on trying to make my mind blank."

"In my experience, it is almost impossible to think of nothing, but you can focus what you think of, and reshape the path your thoughts take."

"Like I said, senpai, you're incredible..."

"One tries," had been her murmured reply, with the boy turning to see her looking off into the distance – or at least, she would have been, if her eyes were open. What she was seeing, what she was imagining, Shinji didn't know – and he didn't dare ask, as it would almost feel like he was violating something precious, defiling something sacred.

And even someone like him knew better than that.

After all, Miyuki-senpai wasn't his _sister_ or someone like _Tohsaka._ Senpai was senpai, a unique and utterly irreplaceable existence.

At least, for Matou Shinji.

* * *

Still, the boy from the east didn't want to become too dependent on Miyuki-senpai, as beautiful and reliable as she was, so he took the time to try and find other ways to improve himself, even if they were...less than pleasant.

' _Writing to grandfather never is…'_ he muttered in his mind, clutching a crumpled letter in his hand. He'd agonized over what to write the monster who was patriarch of the Matou household for weeks, before finally settling on saying that he was doing well in his classes and was recognized as a good student, as well as asking the Archmagus for any tips he had on dealing with troublesome spirits, since he really didn't want to deal with something as crass as Moaning Myrtle again. _'It is too early for this, too…the sun still isn't up. So why am I here, walking to the Owlery?'_

Why, indeed, other than the fact that he didn't want to have to tell anyone that he was writing letters home, as that might lead to them _asking_ what his home was like, and he wasn't ready to tell anyone about that.

Shinji sighed, shaking his head.

' _This had better be worth it,'_ he thought to himself, redoubling his pace as he made his way up the steps, one by one, and entered the great stone room in which the school owls roosted, with some of them turning to him, as if annoyed that someone would set foot here – obviously with a letter – so early, or perhaps, so late.

The place was in a word, filthy, with the floor entirely covered in straw, owl droppings, and the regurgitated skeletons of mice and voles. But then, one might expect as such when hundreds upon hundreds of owls of every breed imaginable made their home here, their round amber eyes glaring at him.

It took a while, but eventually he found a tawny owl willing to let him tie a letter to its leg, and as it flew off, he breathed a sigh of relief that the unpleasant task was one, only to panic as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

' _It'd better not be Granger, come to scream at me or something,'_ he thought, his hands balling into fists before he forced them to relax. ' _No._ _ **No**_ _. Calm down. Calm down. I'm not doing anything wrong.'_

And indeed, the one who appeared at the doorway, her face and figure accentuated by the pale moonlight, was not Granger at all, but a pretty Asian girl – perhaps Chinese? He couldn't really say, except he could tell she wasn't Japanese.

Like Miyuki, she had long, shiny dark hair, though unlike senpai, she seemed a bit sportier, with a freckled nose and much darker eyes.

"Oh, hello," she said, blinking as she noticed him in the gloom. "I didn't expect to see anyone else so early."

"…neither did I," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. "Sending a letter?" he asked, noticing the envelope clutched in one of the girl's hands.

"To my mother," the other confirmed, moving over to one of the owls and offering it something, as it hooted at her and lifted its leg, letting her tie her letter to it without trouble. "And you?"

"Family," he replied shortly. "You've done this before," he noted, seeing her easy movements. "Sending a letter, I mean. And…what did you bribe it with?"

"A bit of jerky. You didn't bring anything?" she asked curiously, as she turned to him.

Shinji held up his hands in mock surrender.

"I'm a first year, haven't done this before."

"Oh, so that's why I don't recognize you," the girl answered with a very pretty smile. "What House are you in? And don't say Ravenclaw, since I know all of the first years. A very…energetic lot, especially that Granger girl."

"You don't say…" Shinji replied with a touch of disdain, to which the Asian girl looked at him askance. "Oh, right, I'm a Hufflepuff. The name's Shinji. Matou Shinji."

"Aaahhh, that would do it," the girl chuckled, hiding her mouth with one of her hands. "You're the one who 'invaded the Tower' on the first weekend of classes, right?"

"…I wouldn't put it _that_ way…" Shinji mumbled, feeling his ears burn as he was teased by the pretty girl before him. "I was just trying to invite someone to join me for an adventure, and Granger, well…I don't think she has many friends."

"…well, you're not _wrong_ ," the Ravenclaw conceded, before her face clouded over with concern. "Listen, you're not…you're not being bullied, are you?"

"Why would you say that?" the boy asked, puzzled by the question.

"It's just…most Hufflepuffs I know tend to move in groups. Loyalty and Teamwork, you know?" the girl supplied. "And since you're coming here so early, trying to avoid other people…"

"Heh, there _is_ someone I'm afraid of running into," he admitted, shaking his head. Why were girls so perceptive? "But it isn't a Hufflepuff."

"Oh. Good," the other said, as if relieved. "I know your House has a good reputation, but there's someone there who you absolutely shouldn't cross."

"Really?" Shinji inquired, his interest piqued. "There's a Hufflepuff that dangerous?"

"Yeah…she sent my friends to St. Mungo's last year," the Ravenclaw girl murmured, shaking her head. "She did such…she almost killed them, yet she wasn't expelled. I…" She shook her head. "Look, just be careful, ok? You seem nice, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt because you got the wrong person angry."

"I will," the boy answered, with a solemn nod. "Thanks for the warning." Then he smiled. "I don't think you have to worry though. I have someone reliable looking out for me."

"Glad to hear it," the other beamed. "What's his name?"

"Her, actually," Shinji corrected, thinking of all the times _senpai_ had helped him, and all the care she'd given him over the past weeks. "Her name's Miyuki."

But the girl's face froze into an expressionless mask at his reply.

"… _Tsuji_ Miyuki?" the girl asked sharply. "She's your…" The Ravenclaw paused, taking a deep breath as myriad emotions danced across her face. "…reliable someone?"

"Yes, that's right," Shinji confirmed. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, I just remembered something I had to do," the other said, brushing past him, without so much as a goodbye.

"Wait!" the boy called after her.

"What?" the Ravenclaw asked, pausing at the doorway, but not turning around.

"I…its just…I didn't get your name," he managed, flustered by this sudden turn of events.

She turned to look at the boy, regarding him for a long moment, as if coming to a decision. Once more, she sighed, mumbling something that sounded almost like "I hope I'm not going to regret this," though Shinji couldn't quite be certain.

"Chang," she said shortly, before turning away, and walking down the stairs. "Cho Chang."

* * *

Class that day was a bit of a blur, given his encounter that morning, as well as a note that he'd received from the Defense Professor at breakfast. Nor was he the only one, as Ernie and Natsumi had received missives as well, as had a number of others, with the first-years among them suspiciously corresponding to the names on the list of people who had passed the man's challenge.

The note was fairly brief, with its contents essentially congratulating him on having a mind more supple and resilient than those of his peers and requesting his presence at a gathering of other such minds that evening to discuss topics of their interest.

"Huh, this is interesting," Ernie had grunted. "Wonder what he wants."

"Well, no way to know, but to go, right?" Shinji had said lightheartedly. "Right, Natsumi?"

"R-right!"

And so, instead of going to the Great Hall (or the Kitchens) for Dinner, the first-years who had passed Quirrell's Challenge found themselves in the Defense classroom, standing around a few small tables next to what looked like a delectable buffet of exotic treats and delicacies.

Only…the Defense Professor was nowhere to be seen.

"He's a bit late, isn't he?" Phelan Noel commented, glancing over at the buffet table. "You think he'd mind if we helped ourselves…? I mean, we're guests, so we should make ourselves at home, right?"

"…you know perfectly Father would never let us do something like that at home," his sister Amber replied frostily, her green eyes flashing. "Don't be a boor, or do you want to take after Lady Selina's manservant."

"Oh geez, you're calling her 'Lady Selina' now?" Phelan moaned, before he noted something strange in what his sister had said. "Wait, her _manservant?"_

"The Malfoy boy," Amber supplied. "You know, the one who doesn't seem to know his place, since he's always glaring at her, even as he calls her 'Mistress' or 'my lady.'"

"He also calls her 'Your Highness', but that doesn't mean she's a princess," Phelan grumbled. "I mean, just ask her."

"It's true. I'm not a princess, Lady Gainsborough," Selina replied, bowing her head. "I apologize for Draco's manners. He simply can't help himself, despite his allegedly illustrious pedigree. Though, wizards aren't used to dealing with those of noble blood, you know." The corners of her lips tugged up into a smile, as her green eyes all but twinkled. "Funny, given how much importance they place on blood purity."

"Is that so?" Amber mused, nodding. "What, do they call us strange things, since our parents weren't wizards?"

"Mudbloods," Selina admitted, as Ernie's face twisted into something unpleasant. "As if saying we are nothing but the dirt beneath their feet."

"…not all of us use those words," Ernie interjected stiffly. "Just the wrong-headed sort."

"Yes, like poor Draco," the petite blonde said, drawing attention away from the awkward Hufflepuff. "You see, he thought there was place for someone not born into a lineage of wizards at Hogwarts. Even dared to tell me to know my place."

"…oh, this is going to be good," Phelan predicted, almost _smirking_. "This is why he glares at you, even though he introduced you as the gracious Lady Selina, isn't it?"

"He believed that skill with a wand defined a wizard, and that by common sense, a wizard born of wizards would always do better than a mere child of mud at any magical challenge." She smiled beatifically. "I may have taken that as a challenge, and asked him if he meant what he said."

"You…you made a bet, didn't you?" Phelan realized, eyes widening as he looked at her consideringly. "About this very challenge."

"Yes. If he ended up doing better in the challenge, I would accept his abuse, at least in regard to myself."

"And if you won?" Nigel Wroxton interjected, the grey-haired youth speaking for the first time that evening.

"Why, then, as the weak had to obey the strong, so he would obey my whims," Selina explained, brushing a wisp of long blonde hair from her face. "We agreed to these terms before all the first years of the house of Slytherin."

"Clearly, he lost," Shinji remarked, to which Selina nodded.

"He did indeed," the Slytherin girl confirmed. "And because we agreed in front of his peers, he can't welch without bringing dishonor to the House of Malfoy."

Phelan burst out laughing at this.

"That's…that's bloody brilliant! You cleaned that pompous arse's clock!"

"…remind me not to get on your bad side," Ernie joked, with Selina chuckling politely.

"Indeed – that was most enlightening, Miss Moore," the voice of the Defense Professor spoke, as the man faded into view at the front of the room, to the shock of everyone but Sialim Sokaris and, of course, Miss Moore.

"Waiting to make a dramatic entry, Professor?" she asked in a sing-song voice. "Or were you just watching how we'd behave without you?"

"Some of one, some of the other," Quirrell admitted. "I wanted to make sure that I'd chosen the right people for this little…gathering of mine."

"And?" Sokaris questioned. "What is your conclusion?"

"That you're not only open-minded and capable, but curious about one another – which says rather good things about you as people," the man responded, glancing from Sokaris over at the blonde, ponytailed Slytherin girl. "You even understand the importance of true power, which is a lesson many take quite a while to learn." Quirrell chuckled. "But, please, do not let me keep you from filling your stomachs. After all, in all my travels, the best discoveries I made each day were not the great beasts of the world, the horrors Dark Wizards could accomplish, or the deeds of heroes, but the simple pleasure of a full stomach and a warm bed."

Off they went to fill their plates, taking steaming bowls of spicy _laksa,_ plates of _naan_ and tandoori chicken, crisp, puffy pierogis fragrant with butter and onions, a paprika-spiced meat stew Quirrell called Gullash (a national dish of Albania), and even a Peking Duck or two, with a crispy skinned roast duck, with small buns for scallions and meat.

For drinks, there were teas – hot teas, iced teas – and all manner of juices, from orange to pumpkin, from apple to grape. There was also butterbeer, but none of that pumpkin juice that Shinji couldn't stand, which he was privately thankful for.

When they'd settled down with their plates laden with large helpings, Quirrell spoke once more.

"Since this is an informal discussion, feel free to ask me whatever you'd like. The only rule I have is that each person gets one question per session," he explained. "I do want to have time to eat too, you know."

"Well, since you offer," Shinji began. "I do have a question."

"Yes?"

"In the scenario you put us through, the Dark Lord or whoever he was mentioned something about Obscurials. What are they, exactly?"

"Ah, what an _interesting_ topic," Quirinus Quirrell remarked, glancing at Shinji. "Particularly since you are one asking. It is not commonly known, but obscurials are young wizards or witches who, due to psychological or physical abuse – or some other sort of trauma – end up suppressing their magic. This force builds within them, and twisted by their torment and their belief in their own powerlessness, becomes almost a separate living thing. Obscurials often don't realize what they are, as it is only revealed once the young wizard is pushed beyond his mental and emotional limits, upon which, their self falls away, and only the Obscurus remains."

"...how common are Obscurials?" Nigel inquired, as he hadn't come across any mention of them before in his books.

"Rare," was the Defense Professor's answer. "It is said that there has not been a single case in Britain in two hundred years, though personally I find myself skeptical of this. In any case, most obscurials in history die by the time they reach the age of ten. So the odds that one is among you at Hogwarts..." The man chuckled, looking at all of the students before him in turn. "Slim to none, but not, as they say, impossible."

"And why might this Dark Lord have been seeking them, in the scenario?" Shinji pressed, unable to help himself.

"Ah, did I not say one question per person?" Quirrell asked mildly. "I did, did I not? Though I suppose since many of you are likely wondering the same thing I can make an exception this once. This is, however, the last time, I will do so. As for why he sought them, I will simply say that he sought them for much the same reason as the revolutionary, Gellert Grindelwald."

"Weapons," the girl named Sokaris uttered.

"Indeed. 10 points to Ravenclaw. Now, if I may ask a question of my own?" he inquired, looking at the members of the group individually. "What do you want? By this, I mean, what is your goal for when you finish Hogwarts? Shall we begin with you, Mister Matou?"

"I want to be acknowledged and respected," Shinji answered. "I hadn't really given it much thought beyond that."

"Acknowledged by who?"

"Mi—my friends," Shinji managed with a weak, almost embarrassed smile. "And my…family."

"Worthy enough, I suppose. Miss Suzuki?"

"I want to go to Cambridge and study under Professor Hawking," Natsumi replied confidently.

"Ah, Hawking, is it? I did rather enjoy _A Brief History of Time,_ " Quirrell noted. "That is a rather ambitious goal, requiring more than a little hard work. Do you think you can manage, Miss Suzuki?"

"I'm a Hufflepuff, am I not?" she asked in return.

"Why, indeed you are. Mister Noel, how about you?"

"Me?" the Gryffindor boy asked with a smile. "That's simple. I want to become the greatest adventurer magical Britain has ever known."

"Oh? I suppose you've heard of one or two."

"Yes! I've read every one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books. Amazing – just all the things he does. The places he's been. The people he's saves. He's…he's an example I aspire to live up to."

"Is he now?" Quirrell inquired, his expression notably cooler. "I hope you do not find one day that your idol has feet of clay. Mister Wroxton?"

"I'd like to become a writer."

"Oh? A writer?" the Defense Professor echoed. "Do you mean a journalist? An author of textbooks? Or…?"

"Someone who writes stories," Nigel sad softly. "Books…were my lifeline when I was in the hospital. They transported me to another place, another time, when I otherwise couldn't leave my bed. To me, writing is the greatest magic there can be, since through writing, you can create entire worlds. You can't do that by waving a wand."

"Fascinating. Any particular genre?"

"I always liked fantasy, though a good heist novel is fun too. Seeing how they plan the job, gather the people, outwit the security – it's all very thrilling."

"Any recommendations, Mister Wroxton?"

" _The Great Train Robbery_ by Michael Crichton is one of my favorites," the grey-haired youth related. "Do you enjoy heist novels too?"

"I certainly enjoy a good heist, yes!" Quirrell said heartily, sharing a smile with the boy. "Miss Moore, what of you? You seem the ambitious sort, so I hope your dream matches up?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that," Selina demurred with a cat-like smile. "All I want is to uncover all the hidden histories of the world, the truth behind the stories, starting with the facts about Hogwarts and the Hogwarts Express."

"Ah, so you seek knowledge, do you? And what do you mean the Hogwarts Express?"

"Well…where did it come from?" the Slytherin girl asked, waving her hands expressively. "I don't think the wizarding world really makes trains. Or train stations. So, who made it? Did the Ministry buy it? Steal it? What about the train station at Hogsmeade and all those tracks? How are those hidden? I want to know."

"Then perhaps one day, you may find out, though it will be a long and difficult journey," Quirrell noted. "There are reasons others have hidden such knowledge through the years. And they, certainly, will not want their secrets exposed."

"All the more reason to find out. Knowledge is power, after all."

"Well said." Quirrell paused for a moment, before glancing over at the purple-haired girl in the room. "Miss…Sokaris, what about you?"

"Creating a cure for vampirism," was the terse reply.

"A cure for vampirism?" the Defense Professor echoed, clearly taken aback by the reply. "You must know that as with lycanthropy, there is no cure for someone who has been turned."

"I know that there is no cure _yet_ ," Sokaris answered with conviction, her purple eyes looking at the Professor almost challengingly. "Because I have not yet created it."

"…do you know, I almost believe you can do it. Almost," Quirrell murmured, shaking his head. "How about you, Mister Macmillan? As the only pureblood in the room, I assume you have some sweeping ambition? Or will you simply end with a desk job at the Ministry like most of your fellows?"

"I uh…I was thinking of becoming a Potioneer," the boy mumbled. "I don't really know, beyond that."

"And that is perfectly acceptable – you have many years before you must decide. Spend them well, Mister Macmillan."

"I will, sir."

"Good. Miss Noel, I do believe you are last, but certainly not least," the Defense Professor noted, turning to the green-eyed brunette. "Do you seek to become an…adventurer like your brother?"3

"I…don't know yet, Professor," she answered, shaking her head. "I _would_ like to know more about the magical world, and its mysteries, but I don't think a life of adventure is for me. I'm not much of a fighter, you see."

"And yet you're better with a sword than I am," Phelan grumbled.

"Maybe I'll become a healer. Or maybe a scholar. I'm curious about what happens after Death, you see, and about things like souls and how magic affects those."

"Ah…now _that_ is intriguing," Quirrell admitted. "Souls are something that the magical world rarely studies, after all. Why, they even classify most magic that deals with them as Dark."

"Oh?"

"Most wizards are fine with magic that affects the physical. But things that touch the mind, or the soul, or _concepts_ – most of those are rather poor at those. And you may be interested to know, Miss Moore, that there are a few secrets involving soul magic, that the powers that be would not want you to know."

"And why is that?" Selina asked.

"Why else? Because they see it as a threat, and so they are afraid, like anyone else who is guilty of a crime," the Defense Professor explained. "Now then, do you all have any further questions for me, or would prefer a chance to get to know each other over the delicacies I provided?" Seeing no reply, he chuckled. "Well then, please enjoy the evening. Perhaps we can have gatherings like this about once a month? If none of you mind, of course."

Taking their silence as consent, he nodded, and went to grab a drink, as answering questions was rather thirsty work.

The students, seeing that the question was over, turned once more to each other, talking to each other about food and other things. Shinji was no exception, though as he'd met everyone in the room save one, it was that one that prioritize – the petite blonde named Selina Moore.

Not that he had trouble himself to go to her, and she instead went to him.

"May I join you?" she asked.

"It's a free world," Shinji shrugged, not wanting to seem too eager.

"What a gentleman. So, you are the Hufflepuff who managed a victory on his own," the petite blonde whispered to him, leaning towards him conspiratorially. "That's very impressive."

"Oh?" Shinji inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Are you just saying that because you were my partner?" At a _look_ from her, he quickly added, "At least, that's what the rumors tell me. Since everyone else in the room was paired up for the challenge."

Selina chuckled.

"Be careful what you hear from rumors, Mister Matou," she cautioned cheekily. "After all, some of them might even be true."

"And what a mad world that would be," Shinji murmured.

"Exactly, I'm so glad you understand," Selina commented with a wicked smile. "But no. As fun as I'm sure it would have been, I wasn't your partner, though I don't really mind if people think I am."

"Oh?"

Now he was curious.

"I won using a perhaps underhanded method after being inspired by a band of three people playing about near the lake," the girl explained, glancing over at Shinji, and over to Natsumi and Ernie. "So in a sense, I have them to thank for my victory."

"Heh. You're welcome," the boy replied gruffly.

"You though…I hear that wasn't what you used, since you went early," she probed, looking up at him curiously.

"And just what did you hear, Miss Moore?"

"Oh, this and that," she said glibly. "I do well on my perception rolls, after all."

"...your _what_?" Perception he understood, but rolls? Where did dice come in?

The girl chuckled.

"Never mind," she said, with a hint of mischief. "So, going to tell me?"

Shinji didn't want to admit that he couldn't remember so.

"I think more fun to keep a secret, don't you?" He asked with a smirk. "That way, I won't ruin whatever you're imagining."

"Or you're just trying to find a way to keep a girl around," she replied as Shinji's ears pinked from her words. "Why, Mister Matou," she said, bringing her hand to her chest. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"I bet that's what you say to all the boys," Shinji snarked.

"Oh, just the ones who don't try to tell me what I can and can't do."

"And the ones that do?"

"I'm sure you'll hear from the rumors," she answered, with a mischievous smile. "Lady Gainsborough certainly did."

"Are you whispering about me, Lady Selina?" the brunette commented, walking over to the group, as if summoned by the sound of her name. "Partner or not, that's somewhat rude."

"Now, I was hardly _whispering_ if you heard it."

"I suppose that's true," Amber allowed, glancing first at Selina and then to Shinji. "So, is he as interesting as Natsumi tells me?"

"Well, he's better than my manservant," Selina said to Amber, who chuckled while hiding her mouth.

"Better than Malfoy?" the brunette inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Not exactly a difficult standard to meet."

"What can I say? I keep my expectations low. That way I'm rarely disappointed," the blonde murmured faintly. "Speaking of which…" She turned back to Shinji. "Of strength, intelligence, dexterity, wisdom, constitution, and charisma, which two do you value most?"

Intelligence was of course the obvious answer, but given that wisdom was there as well…

"Uh…wisdom," Shinji declared, cupping his chin in his fingers as he thought. "And I guess Charisma."

"A would-be warlock, are you?" Selina noted, peering at him. "And what do you value least?"

"…strength, I suppose?" the boy answered. After all, raw strength wasn't very useful in the long run, not against the monsters of the world.

"Most curious."

"Am I?" Shinji asked. "What about you?"

"I am curious yes, but…"

"What do you value most?"

"Ah. Intelligence and Constitution, as befits an artificer," the blonde noted, with Shinji narrowing his eyes.

"I thought you wanted to become someone who learned all the mysteries of the world?" he inquired, somewhat confused.

"Well, I imagine I'll need to make some tools to discover the mysteries for which mere spells and sweat won't do," the girl replied.

"Huh. That makes sense," Shinji said, nodding. "And you, Lady Gainsborough?"

"Hm? Ah, Charisma and Dexterity, of the ones Lady Selina mentioned," the brunette commented. "Is this some sort of divination technique?"

"…in a manner of speaking," Selina noted. "Now that you mention it, you seem like you'd make a good bard after all."

"How did you know I could sing?" Amber questioned, raising a slim, regal eyebrow.

"My divination technique," Selina answered cheekily. "But you already knew that, right Lady Gainsborough?"

"…fair enough," the brunette sighed. "Any other questions you have for us?"

"Well, there was _one._ "the blonde admitted. "Well, two that works as one," she amended. "Are you the type to take risks, for possibility of better rewards? Or are you the type to allocate your resources carefully, so trading power for precision?"

"I think a bit of risk can be a good thing, though it has to be a calculated one," the Gryffindor girl answered. "I don't really think an either-or is called for here."

"And if that wasn't an option? If you had to pick one?"

"Well, as much as talk of money is a bit crass, one might say risk is the family business," the noblewoman replied. "Within limits, of course."

"Naturally," Selina allowed. "And you, Mister Matou?"

"Precision is important," Shinji said after a long moment. "Too many risks can lead to…very unpleasant things, so I like being careful."

"I see. Thank you – I learned a little more about you."

"Was that you part of your divination technique too?" Amber asked.

"No, I was just curious," Selina replied flippantly.

"…I see."

"A question for you then, Miss Moore," Shinji said gallantly. "Since you've asked us so many."

"Why of course, Mister Matou," the Slytherin girl answered graciously. "Ask what you will."

"What did you think when you received the letter from Hogwarts?" he asked, as the other two looked at him curiously. "You're both from families without a long lineage of…practitioners, yes? I was relieved when I got mine, but I don't know what it's like for someone who never knew about magic."

"Well, I would say I never _knew_ ," Selina began. "After all, my brother was a wizard."

"At Hogwarts?"

"No. Faerûn," the girl replied brightly. "I don't suppose you've heard of it?"

"That, I have not," Shinji admitted. "He taught you quite a bit then?"

"You could say that," Selina answered, her smile one concealing a secret of its own. "He and the band of adventurers he called his friends."

"…please don't tell Phelan that, he'll fall in love with you on the spot," Amber quipped.

"Why, is that supposed to be a bad thing?" Selina shot back, to which the Gryffindor girl groaned, as the thought of anyone actually liking her boorish brother was just…wrong. "I'm only teasing, Lady Gainsborough."

"Yes but, even so…"

"I know the feeling," the blonde commented, with the two sharing a long-suffering look. "But to answer your question, I was…happy to be able to step into whole new world myself. Not just see it through my brother's adventures. What about you, Lady Gainsborough?"

"Well, Phelan was over the moon, shouting in undignified manner about how he would become a magic knight and slay dragons. He was, I think, one of the few foolish enough to be disappointed when the Sorting did not involve killing a Troll, or some other monster. As for me…I think I was curious."

"Curious?" Shinji asked.

"About what magic could let me do, and what those who could use it would be like."

"And?"

"…so far? I'm not impressed, at least not by the latter."

Selina raised an eyebrow.

"Those outside of this room, at least," Amber amended, as Shinji let out a snort of laughter.

"…that's fair, I suppose," he quipped, "Though I'd also exempt Miyuki-senpai from the list of unimpressive people."

"Ah yes, of course. I didn't mean to say that M-miss Tsuji wasn't impressive," Lady Gainsborough rushed to add, her cheeks pinking slightly in embarrassment. "If I'd known she was here…"

"You'd be in Hufflepuff?" Shinji supplied, eyes widening. "Why Gryffindor then?"

"Phelan talked me into it," she replied flatly. "He can be quite eloquent when he chooses to be."

"…why does that sound like you should have known better?"

"Because I really, really should have. His schemes are always more…troublesome than he ever considers."

"…I'll keep that in mind," Shinji noted dryly.

"You say that, but you'll forget. Everyone does eventually, much to their regret."


	10. Unwise Adventurers

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 9**. _Unwise Adventurers_

Over the next few weeks, the group that had been brought together by Quirrell got to know each other, as some of them worked together in classes, while others had tea parties, discussed literature and history over dinner, or simply explored the castle together, enjoying a bit of "adventure" in school that sated their appetite for something _exciting._

There was only so much of sitting (or sleeping) through History a person could take before wanting to go out and _make_ some History for themselves, after all, at least, if one was not Selina Moore, who found the very idea of a phantom Professor to be intriguing, even if the reality didn't _quite_ live up to her expectations.

Some definitely preferred one activity over another – Natsumi, Selina, and Amber tended to enjoy their private chats, while Nigel and Sokaris tended to only interact with others (outside of schoolwork) at dinner, given that the poor boy's lack of stamina left him ill-suited for anything too strenuous, and Phelan and Ernie were the type to wander about, following up on rumors of hidden passages, secret areas of the castle, and more.

As for Matou Shinji, the boy didn't especially have a preference, given he had to balance these (admittedly fun sounding activities) with Occlumency training, time learning from Miyuki-senpai, and further reading on the art of curses.

Or rather, deeper study into _Gemino_ , the Doubling Charm, since while its basic functionality of being able to duplicate a non-magical, non-living object was rather interesting, and had already given him a few spare sets of robes to wear around the castle, he was rather more fascinated by the thought of what one if one could enchant an object such that one could make it replicate itself _until_ stopped.

Why, Miyuki was quick to point out, once Shinji posed a question to her about what one could do with such a spell, that starting with a single loaf of bread and a single fish stick, one could feed…multitudes.

Why she mentioned that exact phrasing, instead of saying oh, thousands or millions, he didn't know, though he did get the impression that he'd missed an opportunity for banter. Nevertheless, the thought was exciting, as was the potential if he were to replicate things other than food.

' _I wonder…what would Tohsaka think if I gave her a gem that could endlessly duplicate itself?'_ he mused, amusing himself by imagining what the expression on the Second Owner's face would be if _he_ were to give her essentially a source of infinite wealth, possibly passing it off as a magical artifact like Draupnir, the ring of Odin, which was said to be able to spawn eight (non-magical) versions of itself every nine nights. _'If I wanted to do that, I'd have to learn how to bewitch an object to only duplicate itself at certain intervals, rather than just by touch…'_

Though he had to admit, the notion of a Tohsaka Rin literally drowning in precious stones did appeal to him on some base level.

Or for that matter, his _sister_ drowning in an endless sea of wo—

No, not that. _That_ particular image was far too close to comfort to the scene of Sakura receiving Zouken's…instruction he'd stumbled upon, with the girl turning at the sound of his intrusion to look upon him with eyes with _pity._

Ever since that day…every since that day he'd felt nothing but _hatred_ for her, hatred for the Tohsaka girl who had not only stolen his rightful place, but had even let him treat her like a younger sister, instead the wretched usurper she truly was.

' _She must have been laughing at me behind my back for years,'_ the boy thought darkly, not for the first time, as his hands balled into fists and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. _'Laughing, laughing, laughing at the pitiable Matou Shinji, the worthless heir.'_

He could not forgive her for what she had done.

One day…one day he'd show her. He'd show his grandfather. He'd show Tohsaka.

He'd show them _all,_ he thought with a savage grin, before the realization of what he was doing struck him, with icy cold fear taking the place of boiling rage.

' _Calm. Calm. Calm. Calm…'_ he repeated to himself, forcing himself back from the brink of one of his "blackouts", as he breathed deeply, letting the cool air soothe him as he willed his muscles to relax. He managed – barely, though the effort of doing so left him drained, as if he'd run for kilometers on end. _'I need to get out. To do something. To distract myself…'_

Thus, when Ernie invited him to join him and Phelan for a more _thorough_ exploration of the Castle that weekend, the boy agreed.

' _I mean. Last time was fun, and really, how dangerous could Hogwarts be?'_

* * *

They assembled at the kitchens sometime in the late morning, as Ernie was decidedly _not_ up to being woken up at the crack of dawn, whatever Phelan might have wanted, and Shinji, whose dreams had been…somewhat more pleasant, if messier, of late, did not begrudge the other Hufflepuff his lie in.

' _I can't understand why people waste so much time sleeping, but to each their own…'_ the boy allowed. _'I wonder what we're going to be doing this week, though. Do Phelan and Ernie have a lead, or are they going to try doing something reckless again.'_

It was either one of those or Phelan putting Ernie through a series of exercises that the Gryffindor boy thought a young knight or squire might do, though Shinji doubted that Phelan had ever properly trained as a knight – or had any idea what a medieval knight's training routine might look like, since most knighthoods these days were ceremonial positions, not combat related.

Still, he did appreciate the exercise, as well as how poor Ernie was always aghast at the level of physical exertion that the…rather enthusiastic Phelan had in mind, even if he didn't always appreciate Phelan's more wild ideas.

* * *

"Let's go see what's in the Third Floor Corridor!" the brown-haired boy suggested over a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and hash browns. "The Headmaster mentioned it specifically, so there must be _something_ there," he said, gesticulating wildly. "Maybe some hidden treasure. Or a dragon, or a holy sword."

"…I don't think holy and witchcraft go together all that well," Shinji pointed out, feeling a bit odd at having to be the voice of reason, but determined to head this off before they went charging off into what would almost certainly be a very painful death. "Something about witch hunts, right?"

"…witch hunts? In Britain? Would we do something that uncivilized?" Phelan questioned, blinking. "I mean, King Arthur back in Camelot never had to deal with witches. Well, except for his sister. But that was family."

"Why else would Hogwarts be hidden as it is?" Shinji asked, shaking his head. "Or this…wizarding world refuse to show itself to those they call muggles? I think they're afraid."

"Afraid?" Ernie echoed, scrunching up his nose as if he'd smelled something foul. "Are you calling us coward? Everyone knows Muggles are violent and unruly, always looking for someone to blame for their problems. That's why we hid away, so we didn't have to fix their messes."

Shinji and Phelan shared a _look_ of disbelief, before turning to their Pureblood friend.

"I don't think it works like that," Shinji offered.

"Come off it, Matou. Who's the one who was born into a family of wizards?" Ernie countered. "Besides, how would you know anything? You're a foreigner, and you _sleep_ through history."

"It isn't as if Binns says anything worthwhile," the boy from the east drawls.

"Yes, but…that's not the point and you know it!" the Pureblood huffed. "The point is, you're calling us cowards, aren't you?"

"Neither of you are cowards," Phelan interjected, in what obviously meant to be a placating manner. "And you can both prove that by coming to the Third Fl—"

" _No,"_ Ernie and Shinji chorused, glancing at each other as they realized they'd spoken as one.

"Moving past that, if we want a lead for somewhere to explore, why not ask Slughorn or Quirrell," the blond Hufflepuff suggested. "Look, worst come to worst, we can just have Quirrell give us one of his special scenarios."

"But those are so…so…fake," Phelan groused. "I want a real adventure. To find something no one else has. To boldly go where no wizard has gone before."

"…you mean no one except the ones who built the place?" Shinji questioned.

"Fine, yes," the Gryffindor boy grumbled, almost throwing down his fork. "I don't want to ask a professor. If they know, the school would already know. It would be _safe—_ "

"Um, I, uh, I _like_ safe," Ernie interjected, but Phelan just kept talking over him.

"—and _boring,"_ the brown-haired boy said, running his fingers through his hair. "I thought that coming to a magical school would be special. Not just _homework_ , day after bloody day. I mean, who writes essays? By hand? With _quills_? Don'tyou people even have quills that write for you?"

"Um, yes, but—"

"Then why the bloody hell don't we use them?" the Gryffindor nearly spat. "How are we supposed to go out into the world and protect ourselves from the dangers that are out there if we're wasting our time on essays and these perfectly 'safe' adven—"

Shinji set his cup down on the table with an audible _clink,_ with the others turning to him, Phelan's tirade trailing off at the sight of Matou being…visibly unhappy.

"I _might_ have a lead," the Japanese boy said abruptly. "And I _might_ remember what it is if you both just…be quiet for a moment."

"Sure. I'm quiet. Quiet as a mouse. Quiet as a—sorry," Phelan muttered, before actually shutting up as Shinji glared at him.

"The first time Ernie, Natsumi, and I went on an adventure, we found something," the boy stated blandly.

"We did?" Ernie inquired, scratching his head, since he didn't exactly remember—

"There's a hidden area behind the sink in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Shinji disclosed with a shrug. "When Natsumi threw her back there, I heard Myrtle's voice. It didn't sound like it was behind a stone wall either. It sounded like there was something back there. An open space."

"A secret passage, you think?" Phelan questioned, leaning in.

"Maybe," the Japanese boy allowed. "We won't know till we try, only…there's a sink in the way. We're going to have to move that. Somehow."

Phelan shook his head.

"I don't have tools. Or a sword. And I'm pretty sure none of us know a spell that could help with removing a sink…"

At that, Shinji laughed, as he withdrew three vials of pearlescent liquid from his robes.

"I don't have a spell, but I think these will do," he offered, sliding one over to Phelan.

"What are these?"

"Mopsus," Ernie answered, raising an eyebrow. "What were you going to do with this? Rip the sink off the wall?"

"Yep."

"…are you absolutely bonkers?" the blond Hufflepuff asked, incredulously. "Do you know how much trouble we could get into for destroying school property?"

"No one uses that bathroom anyway, and apparently, the sink has never worked," Shinji countered smoothly. "Think of it as us doing the school a favor. Helping with renovations."

"Isn't there another way?"

"If you prefer, I could whip up a batch of explosive potion?" Shinji suggested. He thought he'd seen some notes about the potion in his annotated book, along with ways to improve the standard yield, but…

"No! If ripping the sink off the wall is bad, _blowing up a bathroom is_ …" Ernie leaned in close as he peered at his Japanese friend. "Um, you don't need to go see Madam Pomfrey, do you?"

"…no. Why?"

"Nothing," Ernie said with a sigh. "I guess if there's three of us, we can get the sink out of the way quickly enough."

"Then its settled?" Phelan asked eagerly. "We're going to the bathroom."

"Can you not look so excited about going to a bathroom?" Ernie groaned. "I'm still eating."

Shinji, despite himself, burst out laughing, happy to see everyone getting along.

' _For a given value of getting along, anyway.'_

In any case, now that a plan and a way to execute it, the boy from the East felt much better about the trio's prospects of stumbling across something good.

' _What is it they say? Fortune favors the bold?'_

Well, he certainly hoped so.

* * *

Matou Shinji didn't feel quite so fortunate just a half hour later though, as he, Ernie, and Phelan grunted and strained, exerting all the force they were capable of in an attempt to – as he'd suggested – rip the sink from the wall.

' _It…sounded…like a good…idea…at the time,'_ he ground out, his muscles clenching as he visualized the heavy object of ceramic and metal flying free, though despite his efforts, it stubbornly remained unaffected.

"Come on now, all together!" Phelan coached them. " _Pull, two three. Pull, two three._ _ **Pull!**_ _"_

Once more, Shinji threw his mental muscles into the task, with his companions doing the same, their faces red from the strain they were putting themselves through.

For several long seconds, nothing happened.

The metal did not give. Would not give. Would not—

 _ **PULL!**_

—a horrible sound filled the air, as shearing metal shrieked in protest. Pipes were twisted apart, wrenched into strange and alien geometries. Bolts came flying free, embedding themselves in the opposite wall with terrible force, and the sink itself _lurched_ forward – though it hadn't fully come off from the wall.

Behind it, he could see the darkness of a great opening, large enough for a man slide into.

Just one more push and…

"W-what are you doing to my bathroom?!" Myrtle sputtered, as the phantom emerged from the toilet, her form an almost solid silver with rage as she laid eyes on the destruction they wrought. "Stop this! Now!"

Unsurprisingly, the boys ignored her, as the sink began to crumble under the force of their telekinetic onslaught, and faced with outright defiance, the ghost dove into the toilet again, vanishing from sight.

"Keep going!" Phelan hissed. "We're almost there. Pull. Together. _**Pull**_!"

A savage growl escaped Shinji's lips as he put his back into his efforts, so to speak, and little by little, the sink began to shift under the combined efforts of the three, as stone splintered and metal _screamed_.

Centimeter by centimeter, they were making progress, prying the pipes from the sink, the sink from the wall, and—

" _ **WHAT THE BLAZES DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"**_ a nasty, oily voice demanded, as a hunched form burst through the door, his pouchy, pasty face covered in red splotches as he surveyed the destruction they'd wreaked with anger...and triumph.

"You!" he cackled, his bulging, pale eyes taking note of the identity of the three in the room as he smiled a ghastly smile. "So, it's true what Myrtle said. Saboteurs. Vandals. _Delinquents_ , at Hogwarts. Fit to be expelled!"

"Look, Mister…"

"Filch. Argus Filch," the man snapped, his rancid breath reeking as he drew near the boys. "Old Filch will tell you something. Stop now and mebee Dumbledore will show you mercy, just give you detention for a year. Don't and it's the chains for you!"

"We've come too far to stop!" Phelan snarled, as Filch laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

The Gryffindor boy tried to twist away from the man's grip, with the man grabbing onto his arm, just as, with a particularly loud roar that echoed against the stone of the bathroom, the sink finally came free, the heavy assemblage of metal and stone flying across the room…

…slamming into the unpleasant man's head – right where Phelan's arm had been pointing – with a sickening _crack_!

Argus Filch went down hard, his body crumpling onto unforgiving stone.

"Bugger!" Phelan shouted, and in his shock, released the sink.

Had his other comrades thought to hold onto it, perhaps tragedy would not have struck.

Alas, seeing the sink hit a person had unnerved them too, and so when the Gryffindor boy released his telekinetic hold on the sink, it promptly submitted itself to the laws of gravity and fell until it could fall no more, stopped by the fragile chest of one Argus Filch.

For a moment, there was silence, as all eyes were on the fallen squib, before...

" _ **MURDER**_!" a ghastly shriek filled the air, as Moaning Myrtle peeked out from the wall, paler than anyone had ever seen her. " _ **MURDER**_ **!** _ **MURDER AT HOGWARTS!"**_


	11. Taking Responsibility

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 10.** _Taking Responsibility_

" ** _MURDER_! _MURDER AT HOGWARTS!"_**

Frozen by the shrill cry, the Trio just stood there, looking first at each other, then at the body of Argus Filch, for several long seconds, then back at each other with confusion and uncertainty writ large across their features.

"W-what do we do?" Ernie said weakly, his voice faltering under the weight of the situation they found themselves in. "He can't…really be…"

 _'Dead.'_

In that moment, the three shared a single thought: a premonition of doom if they remained, if they were found beside the body of Argus Filch.

If the man _were_ dead, and they at fault, they could be…

 _'We could be imprisoned…or expelled,'_ Shinji realized, as icy cold tendrils of fear slithered down his spine. _'I can't…if I'm expelled, then…'_

Then everything he had ever worked for would be meaningless, and any sort of magical tradition, even the leavings of witchcraft.

 _'I can't…I can't…'_

But whatever conclusion he would have reached, whatever protest he would have made died stillborn on his lips, dashed to pieces by the sound of feet on stone – the sound of someone racing towards the bathroom.

"We—" the boy began, only to be cut off.

"Quickly! Into the pipe!" Phelan commanded, his eyes wild, with the Gryffindor boy breaking into a run towards—

 _'…I was going to ask_ what _pipe, but…its kind of obvious when you look,'_ Shinji thought, his eyes falling upon the gaping hole left in the wall, large enough for a man to slide into.

"Um, I don't…" Ernie muttered, wanting to go, but...

"Now!" Phelan insisted, as he jumped into the pipe, a muffled scream of delight rushing up to meet the two left behind as he slid down and out of sight.

With a nervous gulp, Ernie Macmillan followed.

Shinji, however, did not, paralyzed by indecision and shock as he was.

On the one hand, it was true, he could flee now, following his friends into whatever danger lurked in the darkness, leaving only Moaning Myrtle as an (unreliable) witness to what had occurred.

On the other, he all too clearly remembered Amber's warning about Phelan's schemes always being more troublesome than he ever considered, so…

"You..." a horrified whisper issued from the open doorway, with Shinji glancing over to see the figure of a certain Hermione Granger, her face pale and shining. "Myrtle was…you… ** _murderer!"_**

The last word was a snarl, as the Ravenclaw brought her wand up in a single smooth motion, a spell already on her lips.

 _"Petri—"_

But a spell that needed to be spoken could not compare to a wave of invisible force, as the _Mopsus-_ enhanced Shinji telekinetically slammed the girl against the wall, and in the brief moment she was stunned, took hold of her wand…

 _Crack!_

And broke it into a dozen different pieces, with Hermione recovering from her daze just in time to see bits of wood rain down onto barren stone.

"You..." The brunette swallows, her entire body trembling in the wake of the boy's display of magical might. Slowly, almost as if unaware, she shifted her weight, taking a step back as her eyes glanced towards the corridor, as if to see if it was clear.

In that moment, all manner of wild ideas ran through Shinji's mind.

He could knock the girl out and force Lethe River Water down her throat, perhaps setting _her_ up as the one who killed Filch.

He could toss her down the pipe, so his friends could deal with her.

He could take her hostage, bargaining her safety for the freedom of his friends.

He could…

 _'No,'_ the boy told himself, shaking his head even as he wavered. _'If I do any of those…I_ will _be a monster.'_

Like his grandfather.

And that was the one thing he feared becoming most.

But whatever he might have done, whatever he might have wanted to do, all of it was rendered moot when Granger took advantage of his distraction to flee, racing away as if her very life depended on it. For a wonder, she wasn't even screaming, but then, that made sense, as the girl was no doubt reserving every bit of oxygen in her lungs to help her race away from the monster – the _murderer_ – who had appeared before her eyes.

 _'Murderer...'_ Shinji's mind echoed numbly, as he stared at the space where Granger had stood. If he'd been more decisive, done _something,_ then maybe… ' _Wait. That's it…'_

Granger thought that he'd murdered Filch, no doubt because of Myrtle. So would anyone else the ghost decided to warn, but…

 _'…it's only murder if Filch is actually dead, right?'_

Yes. That was it exactly.

If Filch wasn't dead, then it wasn't murder.

If Filch wasn't dead, _he_ wasn't a murderer.

The boy moved, walking over to the fallen caretaker's side, only to realize that he wouldn't tell if the man was alive or not, not with the sink crushing his chest, with the fallen man's form silent and unmoving.

All he could discern was that the man's hands were terribly, terribly cold, and that he didn't think the man was breathing, though he couldn't be entirely sure.

 _'Right...let's move the sink,'_ he told himself, thinking that might help, at least a little.

Using a bit of telekinetic force, the boy proceeded to do so, with the object in question rolling off the man onto the floor with a very heavy _thump,_ allowing him to finally get a close look at the man _._

…only instead of making him feel any better, the boy felt quite a bit _worse,_ given that what little he could see suggested that the man was, if not already dead, obviously lingering at death's door.

The man _wasn't_ breathing. His head was covered in blood and seemed...as if it had been caved in, as one might expect when a heavy projectile like an ancient sink smashed into a man at high speeds, and his chest…

Shinji swallowed.

His chest had obviously been _flattened_.

 _'I...I have to take him to Madame Pomfrey,'_ the boy realized, fighting the urge to just give into terror.

It wasn't as if he knew the vanishing spell, and dumping the body into the pipe wouldn't help, as he imagined someone would find it eventually – probably Myrtle or something, since she wouldn't be deterred by physical barriers or the cold and the dark.

 _'Unlike Ernie and Phelan...'_ he thought to himself, hoping the two were ok, since they'd leaped without looking, and without any source of light, since they, too, had taken Mopsus. _'I hope they weren't eaten by a grue or something…'_ He was tempted to join them, in case some danger – maybe some great beast – a dragon or elder serpent or giant spider, perhaps – lay within, but... _'No. If I do that, then Filch will die, and we really will be killers.'_

His friends…they would be ok, he hoped.

This was Hogwarts, after all, not one of Quirrell's tests. There weren't dangerous beasts lurking around every corner, or a dark wizard, just biding his time for them to slip up.

All the same…

"Are you ok down there?" he shouted into the pipe, hoping they were still within earshot, only to find that there was no answer. Then again, he hadn't really expected they would be, not with how Phelan was moving. But if...if... _'I can't worry about that. I can't. I don't have the luxury to worry.'_

This, Shinji told himself as he gestured, and Filch's body lurched into the air, as if an invisible hand had tied a rope around his chest, his head and limbs dangling loosely and flopping about as he walked out of the bathroom, to—

"Going somewhere, Mister Matou?" Professor Quirrell inquired mildly, with the man standing just beside the door, looking completely relaxed, save for a raised eyebrow.

Startled, Shinji lost his mental grip on the floating form of the caretaker, with the body of Argus Filch crashing to the ground in his shock.

"P-professor!" the boy stammered, as he hadn't expected to see anyone in the hallway. "I—"

"Mister Matou, please, it is no good to simply leave trash laying on the ground," the man drawled, making his way over to the broken body of Filch, and kneeling to examine it. "Littering is against the rules, after all."

"Eh?" Shinji let out an odd sound as he felt his mind freeze. What...was Quirrell saying?

"Hmm…I imagine you wish to take him to the hospital wing where the good Matron can see him, yes?" the Defense Professor inquired, to which Shinji could only nod. "I expect there was some kind of...misunderstanding that occurred earlier, which is why Miss Warren came flying to my office in a panic? With Miss Granger racing there some time later?"

"Miss Warren?" Shinji echoed, before shaking his head. "I mean, yes!" he said, latching onto the man's words like drowning man to a rope. "There was a misunderstanding."

"I see. Then you won't mind if I come with you?" the Defense Professor asked casually – almost too casually for Shinji's comfort. "Just to make sure you and…Argus get there both safely and free of harassment?" The boy nodded frantically, even as the man glanced at the bathroom. "Or would you prefer I check on your...friends, who I imagine, given your shouting, dove headlong into the hidden tunnel behind the sink?" Quirrell chuckled. "A dangerous business that. Who knows what could be lurking down there?"

"H-how?"

"As I said, I heard your shouting. Though I already suspected due to Miss Warrren's words," Quirrell answered smoothly, his lips curving up into a thin smile. "Or as you students like to call her, Moaning Myrtle. The last victim of the Chamber of Secrets."

Shinji's stomach _lurched_.

"But that's a story for another time," the man continued with a touch of amusement. "So which will it be, Mister Matou? Do you wish for me to accompany you to the infirmary, or to rescue your friends from whatever danger lies below? Do answer quickly – poor Argus' life won't last much longer. If he even is still alive, that is. And as for your friends…"

"Please. Come with me," the boy managed after what seemed like a small eternity, but which had in reality only been a few second. "I don't want…I don't want Mister Filch to die."

"Hmph," the man grunted upon hearing Shinji's answer. "Come along then, Mister Matou," the Defense Professor stated, wordlessly gesturing as the body of Argus Filch went rigid and stiff, before floating up into the air. "For the record, I am surprised to hear that you are less concerned about the danger your friends may be in than with the life of a stranger, given that you are a Hufflepuff. And well, for future reference, you should always immobilize the head and neck of someone with such...injuries before transporting them." Quirrell smiled, a rather grim expression that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Otherwise, your...patient may end up paralyzed. Or worse. And wouldn't that be difficult to explain, considering the situation at hand?"

On that note, the man glanced meaningfully at Shinji, who swallowed at the implications of his mistake, but fell into step next to the professor anyway.

It wasn't as if he had a choice, right?

"J-just, what...did you hear, Professor?" he asked, feeling quite uneasy. "From...from Myrtle, that is," he clarified, turning away from the force of the Defense professor's raptor stare.

"Miss Warren informed me that you and your colleagues killed Argus in a fit of rage after he caught you vandalizing the bathroom and threatened you with expulsion," Quirrell informed him, with something like a chuckle escaping the man's lips. "Not the most reliable account, to be certain. As for poor Miss Granger, well, she was somewhat incoherent when she rushed into my office, ranting about how she had only barely escaped from a demon after her blood. She seemed to be in shock at seeing you near Argus' body."

"I-I didn't ask about Granger," Shinji said thickly, but doesn't meet the man's eyes. "I don't really care about her, either. Or what she thinks of me."

"Really?" Quirrell questioned. "How _disappointing_. She's always talking about you, after all. Odd, that, but then, you were only one to pass my trial without even seeing your partner."

"I...uh, are you saying she's jealous, or...?"

Quirrell chuckled.

"I am simply amused by her...fascination with you," the man explained. "No, rather than fascination, perhaps it is close to obsession? It is...rather charming, I have to say."

"Charming?!" Shinji recoiled, slamming to a halt, his composure absolutely shot by the man's words. "How is that...?"

"Are you not flattered?" Quirrell questioned, pausing in mid-step. "It is rare that the attention of someone as dedicated as Miss Granger turns from her books towards something more...practical, after all. Unless there is some other reason..."

Shinji's thoughts drifted for a bit, though as usual when it came to Hermione, it was a mix of pity and anger that wells up.

"I think she doesn't understand why Sokaris prefers _my_ company to hers," the boy state bluntly, as Quirrell looks at him owlishly. "She must think I'm holding onto her weakness or something, but it's not like that at all. I mean, I don't think anyone likes a bossy know-it-all like Granger, especially one who isn't as smart as she thinks she is."

"You will find, Mister Matou, that very few people are as smart as they think they are," the Defense Professor remarked in response, as the two began walking once more. "Especially Ravenclaws."

"...weren't you a Ravenclaw yourself, Professor?"

"I was," Quirrell admitted easily. "Hence I speak from experience."

As they continued onwards, they walked passed a number of older students, who stiffened at seeing the young Japanese boy, as the screaming wraith of Myrtle Warren had been telling everyone who would listen about the acts of the three "murderers" – though seeing Quirrell walking beside Filch's broken body, and a subdued Shinji next to them, they simply let them pass.

After all, surely the Defense Professor had things well in hand.

Without further incident, the trio arrived at the infirmary, where an alarmed Madam Pomfrey took charge of Filch's body immediately, her features grim as she began examining the man.

"Quirinus, go get the Headmaster immediately!" the nurse matron commanded in a no-nonsense tone. "We need an immediate Floo connection to St. Mungo's if we are to have any chance of saving this man."

"Oh? You can't treat him here, Poppy?" Quirrell questioned, raising both eyebrows in an expression of apparent surprise. "As I recall from my Hogwarts days, you were quite the miracle worker."

Madam Pomfrey was less than amused.

"I don't have the resources, Quirinus, or the time for your flattery. Get Albus _now_."

"As you wish," the Defense Professor acknowledged with a stiff nod, before moving towards the door of the infirmary. "Matou, if you have nothing to do with this, I would suggest you leave, or least wait quietly in a corner. I cannot afford any distractions if I am to try and save Argus' life."

The man stalked out the door, and Shinji…well, not wanting to be alone with the body of the man he might have killed, and the nurse who was trying to keep him from crossing over death's door, hurried after him – a somewhat difficult endeavor as Quirrell's legs were much longer than his.

The Defense Professor raised an eyebrow as the wayward student caught up to him, though he said nothing as he made his way through the castle to where a large, ugly stone gargoyle sat against the wall, glowering menacingly at the approaching wizards.

"Sherbert Lemon," Quirrell declared brusquely, pre-empting the stone figure's challenge, whereupon the gargoyle leapt aside, revealing a slowly ascending circular staircase. "After you, Mister Matou."

The two ascended briskly, walking up and up and up, until at last they reached an oaken double door which swung upon at a touch.

The room within was quite interesting for Shinji, given how large and spacious it was – the size of a full classroom, perhaps, or larger, and splendidly furnished.

Elegant wooden furniture could be seen here and there - large bookcases almost overflowing with tomes, an enormous claw-footed desk, overstuffed chairs.

And all around the room, portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses stared down at the visitors who had dared to intrude into the office of the master of Hogwarts, serving the function of making any visitor seem small in comparison to the occupant of the office.

"Quirinus. Mister Matou," the Headmaster greeted kindly from behind his desk, where he had apparently had been working on some paperwork – the bane of every administrator, magical or otherwise. "What brings you here?"

Shinji was about to explain when—

"Argus is in critical condition," the Defense Professor interjected quickly. "Poppy requests an emergency Floo connection so he can be taken to St. Mungo's."

"How...?" the Headmaster asked, though Quirinus cut him off.

"Mister Matou will explain later," Quirrell intoned. "Unless of course, you value knowledge more than Argus' life..."

Dumbledore stiffened as the Defense Professor's words hung between them, before rising to his feet and—

"Fawkes!" the man barked.

In a flash of light and with a flapping of wings, the Headmaster disappeared.

"Ah, yes, I'd nearly forgotten," Quirrell said with a slight smile, as Shinji just stared at the space where Dumbledore had just vacated. "The headmaster's familiar is a Phoenix, which gives him access to certain abilities that not bound by the protections of Hogwarts. Abilities some might consider...unnatural."

"Now now, I say. Don't go slandering the Headmaster, Quirinus," a nasally voice declares from a shelf behind the desk. "You don't have the right, since you're not sitting in his chair."

Shinji was momentarily nonplussed, as he didn't see anyone else in the room, though on a second look, he could see that the voice seemed to be coming from the shabby, tainted witch's hat that had been used for the Sorting.

"Now now, it is hardly slander if it is true," Quirrell rebuked mildly. "Nor do I necessarily consider a natural state to be a good thing. After all, we are but animals when we are born, just like the Muggles, and only through our efforts do we become something... _more_."

"True, from a certain point of view," the Hat conceded. "I trust the coming explanation will at least be entertaining? Albus is entirely too quiet when he does his work. Never puts me on or talks to me at all. A tragedy, really, since Godric did not gift me with sight."

"I can see how that sort of existence would be a torment," Quirrell said sympathetically. "Being powerless to change your fate. Always being at the mercy of others. Taken for granted. I could not bear such a thing."

"...sometimes I still wonder if I should have sorted you into Slytherin, Quirinus, given the scope of your ambitions. Your reach always did exceed your grasp."

"Well, if it doesn't, what's a heaven for, I say?" Quirrell replied. "In any case, I like to believe I did well enough as a Ravenclaw, what with becoming learned enough to become a Professor."

"That I cannot dispute," the Hat noted primly.

With that, the Defense Professor turned to Shinji.

"As for you, Mister Matou...it would best for all involved if you were to remain here, so you can explain the situation to the Headmaster when he returns. I will go to check on your friends, if that is acceptable? Unless you would prefer for me to remain here with you, of course. The choice is yours."

"Actually..." Shinji said uneasily, clearly hesitant, though he managed to get the words out anyway, as neither option sounded appealing. "If you go, could I come with you?"

"Oh? Do you not trust me, Mister Matou?" the Defense Professor inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, I, uh..." the boy began, feeling rather uncomfortable to be questioning the man's character so.

"You don't, I see," Quirrell observed, letting his words hang in the air ominously. Shinji didn't say anything further, with the boy looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes, the man nodded, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "Very good. Trust should be earned, not given, and I have not given you any reason to trust me, have I?"

Shinji _blinked_ , feeling incredibly out of his depth as he looked up to see the Defense Professor _smiling_.

"What."

In that moment, the boy knew what it was to be truly, terribly confused. He'd said he didn't trust the man - a teacher - so why was the professor seemingly _happy_ about this?

"I don't remember you as being particularly hard of hearing, Mister Matou, whatever else your faults." the Professor said genially enough. "Impatient, brash, and full of surprises and secrets, but not hard of hearing. If you want to come with me to rescue your friends, come, by all means, but do keep up. After all, it is the safety of your friends at stake."

So the man explained as he was already halfway out the door, with Shinji having to hurry to catch up to the Defense Professor's longer-legged stride.

"Mister Matou, you come from a foreign land, yes?" Quirrell asked once they had descended the spiral staircase, and we out in the hallway again. The boy nodded. "And you have an interest in...potions, yes? Given that you apparently are under the influence of Mopsus, even now.."

"Yes?" Shinji hazarded, not sure where the man was going with this line of questioning.

"Then let me ask you...did you ever hear the tragedy of Nicholas the Wise?" the man inquired solicitously. When Shinji looked confused, the man just chuckled. "I thought not. It's not a story most wizards would tell you, as it's not one which involves much in the way of wands or duels or impressive magic. It's a tangled yarn about a troubled man, one who gained prestige and power by chance - yet squandered it all."

"Prestige and power?" Shinji echoed, narrowing his eyes. "By chance?"

"Nicholas Flamel, called the Wise, by some, was a wizard who some honor as the greatest Alchemist to ever live. They say he created the Philosopher's Stone, an artifact so mighty and magical that it was said to be able to turn lead to gold, to heal any disease or wash away any curse...even to create life itself. Indeed, with the Stone in his possession, he could even keep himself – and those he cared about – from dying from injury…or old age."

"He could actually save people from death?" the boy asked incredulously, taken aback by this audacious claim.

"Indeed," the Defense Professor confirmed. "Alchemy, you see, is a pathway to many abilities the majority of wizards would consider...unnatural." The man smiled at the thought. "Even fora man who made a living among the muggles as a scribe and manuscript salesman, because he had little talent with a wand."

"Nicholas Flamel was…?"

"It is surprising how few remember his less than illustrious past, or how his rise to power was only due to a...stroke of fortune," Quirrell continued, shaking his head. "You see, one day, in the course of his business, he came into possession of a certain set of notes left behind by a Sage from the east, and in reading it, learned enough of the secrets of the art of Alchemy that he could pass himself off as its greatest Master."

Shinji blinked, scarcely able to believe that such things happened in this new world of his – though he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised, since that seemed like something a magus would do.

"What happened to him?"

The Defense Professor merely chuckled.

"What indeed?" the man asked rhetorically. "He became so powerful that the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. In his fear that others would learn of his deceit or usurp his position as the so-called greatest Alchemist in the world, he hid those first notes too well, losing them. In time, he forgot the secret of how he had even made the Stone begin with. What secrets he did remember he entrusted to his apprentice, and his apprentice...well, you can guess the rest, can't you?"

"His apprentice betrayed him? Stole the Stone?" Shinji supplied, thinking that this must be the obvious answer.

"If I say he did, would you say he was wrong in doing so?" Quirrell inquired. "You see, the fame and long life that Flamel enjoyed was not rightly his in the first place, so would his apprentice be at fault for claiming from him what he claimed from another?"

"Uh, I...huh."

Matou Shinji found that he couldn't answer such a question, at least, not confidently. What was it that Quirrell wanted him to say? What would he say?

"I suppose that might not have been fair to ask, so I'll pose another question to you – a bit of a thought experiment then," the man noted. "If you had the opportunity to take the Stone for yourself, without anyone being able to stop you, or anyone knowing of your deed, would you do so?"

"I…"

"Imagine it, Mister Matou, the greatest artifact of Alchemy lays before you, with only perhaps a few trivial traps or obstacles in your way – nothing that could really stop you if you were serious about getting past them. With the power of the Stone at your fingertips, a power you could pass off as your own creation with some years' effort, why, you would fame, fortune, and power untold. Would you resist the temptation, knowing the man who owns it does not deserve it, or would you claim it for yourself?"

Shinji's mouth went dry as he imagined such a thing.

To have an opportunity like that...if he was thought to be an Alchemist of that level, a Master without peer, no one would ever laugh at him again. No one would ever look at him with pity or scorn or all the things his family once – and still – did. No one would think him trash to be thrown away.

No one at all.

"I..." the boy said again, licking his lips unconsciously. "I would…"

"You don't have to answer," Quirrell broke in, almost gently. "After all, it is obvious what your answer would be. What anyone's answer would be." The man shook his head. "Though I must say that the final chapter of the story of Flamel is not yet written, nor that of his Stone."

"Oh?"

"It was taken, but Flamel yet lives, for now," the Professor explained. "What will happen, I wonder? Will the Stone be returned to him? Will his apprentice escape with it successfully? Will it be stolen by another? Or will it be… _destroyed_?"

"D-destroyed?!" Shinji squawked, unable to help himself as he felt his chest constricting at the thought of such an artifact wasted. Such a thing – such a thing which could cure any disease, overturn even death, _destroyed_? No, that would be senseless, criminal, barbaric. Such a thing – it could not be allowed. Such a thing…

…was worth killing to prevent.

The thought came into his mind so very innocently, yet the moment after he thought it, the boy froze.

What was he…?

"I can feel your outrage at the thought, Mister Matou," the Defense Professor said gently him. "But outrage alone accomplishes nothing, without the power to do something about it. After all, as I have often said, there is no such thing as good or evil, only power..."

"...and those too weak to seek it," Shinji growled, nodding fiercely. "I understand." He clenched his fist, as his body shuddered. "I understand," he repeated. "Right now, I'm still weak, aren't I?"

"Much like your peers, though you, at least, have the wisdom to realize this," Quirrell affirmed. "But weakness – any weakness – can be remedied, so long as you know what you are capable of, and know what you lack. Build upon your strengths; cover your weakness. Therein lies the way to strength."

"But I..."

"There is no shame in admitting weakness, only in languishing in it, or using it as an excuse, as so many others do, allowing their weakness to become a chain that binds them – that limits their potential," the Defense Professor continued. "Let me ask you – do you know why I structured my challenge as I did? So that one could not use wands?"

"...no. Why?"

"Because too many of your peers believe themselves to be strong. To be worthy, simply because they are wizards. Simply because they have been chosen by a wand, and cast some simple spell," the man almost sneered, as an expression of disgust flittered across his features. "And yet, they are nothing. They are nothing, yet they do not realize how little they are worth."

Quirrell sighed, shaking his head.

"In Wizarding Britain, wands are the symbol of a wizard, a powerful tool that separates them from the Muggles they look down on," the man explained. "It is…sometimes amusing seeing how many wizards treat those born without magic as inferiors, as something of a lesser race. Whether one is a dark wizard who considers them toys, or someone like Arthur Weasley who believes they need our protection, none of them see Muggles as equals, even though they have accomplished so much without the so-called benefit of magic." The man laughed at that, a low, almost sinister sound. "They _pity_ them, just as they cling to old traditions and laugh at the ignorance of Muggleborns." Quirrell turned, his eyes gleaming with something odd. "So I stripped them of their wands, took away what they thought made them special, saw what these wizards and witches were capable of when reduced to nothing but their wits and their bare hands. And what do you think happened, Mister Matou?"

"I…I don't—"

"You have met the others in your year who passed," the Defense Professor said simply. "Most of them are muggleborn, or otherwise, seen as outsiders by this world. Do you know how amusing it is to see the so-called mighty humbled? To see the proud broken on the shoals of their assumptions, to see purebloods forced to submit to those born of Muggleborns – or as some put it – Mudbloods? My greatest pleasure as a teacher is helping others realize just how vast the world is, and just how much their vaunted skills are worth."

"...but I'm not a muggleborn," Shinji protested ineffectually. "I'm..."

"A half-blood, but not one so blinded by the thought of your lineage that you forget what you are," Quirrell said smoothly.

The Japanese boy narrowed his eyes.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I knew your mother, Aisaka Mariko. A charming and inquisitive young woman, I found – far more enjoyable to speak to than some of my more close-minded peers," Quirrell responded flatly, the answer freezing Shinji where he stood as his mind momentarily shut down. The man sighed. "Do keep up. It would be inconvenient if you were to be ambushed by some well-meaning simpleton. After all, few among us understand that the most powerful weapon a wizard has is not magic, but mind."

"I...uh...yes."

The duo reached the bathroom without further incident, stepping over the sink as they made their way to the pipe.

"After you," the man said graciously, gesturing to the opening. "Unless you wish me to go first?"

"…no, after you," the boy replied, thinking about trust once again, and how, after that discussion, he wasn't really sure he wanted Quirrell at his back.

 _That,_ and if there was any danger below, the Defense Professor would be better equipped to deal with it.

With a nod, the man turned and descends into the darkness with an artful grace that Shinji had not anticipated, though the boy realizes that he couldn't exactly tell if Quirrell made it down or not.

He couldn't hear anything from below, after all – which made him wonder if there was some kind of spell that dampened out any sounds coming from within.

 _'Fitting for a place called the Chamber of Secrets,'_ he thought to himself. And if there was something like that, in place...

A chill ran through him at the thought that perhaps Quirrell had been right. Perhaps there were dangers afoot in that unexplored subterranean passage – perhaps even the same beast that once killed Myrtle Warren.

If so, then maybe the Defense Professor had only meant well when the man had offered to check on his friends, while asking him to remain behind in the Headmasters' office. The man seemed reasonable enough, by magus standards, anyway, and he admitted that he had judged the man severely - perhaps more than he deserved, given the sheer brutality of the challenge that had been presented to the class.

 _'Well. Down I go_ ,' he resolved, and lifting himself into the pipe, and pushing off as he slid down, down, down into the gloom.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see pipes branching off in every direction, though none as large as the one he was going down, twisting and turning, sloping steeply downwards, and somehow Shinji knew that wherever the pipe would lead, it was somewhere beneath even than the dungeons.

Down he went for a long, indefinite period of time, with the boy beginning to worry if this was a trap – if this really led anywhere besides, oh, the bottom of the Black Lake or something, when the pipe leveled out and he shot out the end with a thud, landing in an undignified heap on the floor of a stone tunnel large enough to stand in.

Or at least, he thought it was a tunnel – the darkness was oppressive and absolute, and there was no light by which he could see.

 _'And without a wand, I can't conjure light either...'_

He could only use the abilities that Mopsus granted him to feel the walls, groping his way forward as a blind man might.

 _'There's only one way forward, so forward I go...one step forward, not one step back.'_

The pounding of his heart thundered in his ears, seemingly all the louder in the silence of the subterranean world. His footsteps sounded like gunshots, as—

 _Crunch!_

Shinji's heart almost leapt out of his chest at the sudden, sickening sound, with the boy beginning to hyperventilate in the gloom as he wondered what that was.

 _'Calm down. Calm down. Quirrell came here first. Surely, he dealt with any traps. It should be safe...'_

So, he thought, before his senses told him something was before him, something smooth and scaly and the boy almost _screamed –_ though he managed to restrain himself to merely an undignified squeak.

 _'Snakeskin? What on earth...?'_

It seemed – not, not seemed, _was_ monstrously large.

What kind of creature could leave behind such a thing?

 _'No, there's no time to think about it…'_

Putting the mystery out of his mind, the boy pressed onwards, proceeding further into the darkness, as the tunnel turned and shifted before him, every sound one that whispered of danger, of secrets never to be told, of the end that awaited all those who came here without preparation, without _permission_.

For, if this was the Chamber of Secrets, then what better way to keep a secret, than to kill those who'd learned it?

Was that why Myrtle had died? Because she'd learned about the sink? Because she had become an... _inconvenience_ to be disposed of?

...was he next?

The boy stepped forward again and again, finding himself turning one last corner, just as a pulse of pure white light washed over him.

It was bright.

 _Too bright,_ seeming to scorch his eyes as he reeled, covering them a moment too late.

He couldn't see.

Couldn't see a thing.

Could only feel the light dancing on his skin, banishing the gloom, with his head screaming in pain.

If this was a trap, then Matou Shinji was dead, as he could not see and could not defend himself against whatever enemy attacked him in his vulnerable state.

Any moment, the boy expected to feel a surge of agony, or the pain of something tearing him apart – perhaps teeth, perhaps venom, or claws.

Perhaps cold iron, or the molten heat of a spell that corroded his body from the inside out, but there was none of that.

Indeed, when his vision returned, there were no threats to be seen in the room, just the figure of Quirinus Quirrell standing before a wall engraved with two entwined serpents, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

...and the badly mauled bodies of his friends, Ernie and Phelan, crumpled on the floor before it.

"Can you see again, Mister Matou?"

Shinji nodded, but looked down at his friends, making to rush over to them, though Quirrell halted him with a single raised hand.

"If you'd remained at the Headmaster's Office, you could have told him where I went," the man said quietly, looking at the boy he walked into the circle of light cast by the man's wand. "That perhaps he could have sent his phoenix to retrieve us, since the pipe is...perhaps not something we can climb through."

"...Ah." Shinji winced. "Are we...trapped? Are we…going to die down here?"

His voice was tinged with hysteria, but the panic brewing inside him settled down as Quirrell shook his head.

"Of course not," the Defense Professor intoned confidently, after Shinji had begun to work himself into a frenzy. "I made sure to create a Portkey which will take me – and those I am touching, back to my office. Even if apparition will not work here at Hogwarts, there are other things that will."

"I...see," Shinji noted, still reeling from the sight of his friends – and from his recovery from blindness. "Is it possible to learn this power?"

"Not...as you are," the Defense Professor stated bluntly, stepping aside so that Shinji could see to his friends. "You do not have the discipline or the sheer amount of will. At least, not yet. As to your friends…"

Shinji knelt down beside them, relieved at first to see that both of them were still breathing – if only just barely. But the wounds on their bodies, the way they looked pale – so very pale. How cold they were?

"Are they...? Will they be?"

"They were attacked by a pack of Gytrashes, it seems," Quirrell noted gravely. "Feral spirits who linger in darkness and embody a crude sense of hunger." The man pointed to the rather severe bites on the fallen boys – savage marks and ragged red edges, some falling just short of the throats of the boys. "Six of them. As you may recall from class, they are ambush predators who are only weak to light. Sadly, as you and your colleagues were under the effects of Mopsus, none of you could even muster a wand-lighting spell."

"Ah...no…"

Then…was this _his_ fault? It had been his suggestion to come to the bathroom. On his suggestion, they'd taken Mopsus. And now…

"I will give your friends credit for their fast reflexes, as they stopped the first four Gytrashes to attack them, holding them in place with their fields of force, but the issue with Mopsus is that one's ability to control things with one's mind is limited by one's imagination," Quirrell continued, shaking his head. "And being only...human, your friends no doubt thought of their powers as extensions of their arms and legs. As a shield perhaps – a plane of force one might use to block an attack or walk upon. But nothing more than that. And so, though they stopped the first attack – they could not stop the second. At least, not before taking severe injuries. Mister Noel is much worse off, given the damage to his soul, and like poor Argus, is on the very brink of death. Mister Macmillan is rather more fortunate, though he, too is badly injured, and will die without treatment more advanced than I can provide here - and soon."

"So...what you're saying is..."

"Realistically, I will only be able to save one of them," the Defense Professor intoned, as Shinji felt his stomach drop into a bottomless pit.

 _"What?!"_ he cried out.

"Oh, certainly we will return to the infirmary, via portkey, with your friends in tow. And hopefully, Poppy will have returned, or Albus at least, but it is…unlikely," Quirrell said sadly. "In that case, I will only be able to save one. And since they are your friends…tell me, Mister Matou, which one do you wish me to save? The Hufflepuff, or the Gryffindor? The Pureblood, or the Muggleborn? Choose wisely."

On the surface, it seemed like such a simple choice. Which one should be saved?

And yet...by choosing who would be saved, he was also choosing who would die. Choosing which of his friends would never have the chance to laugh again. To go on an adventure again. To see their family again. Or their friends. To never realize their dreams.

For a dark moment, the boy almost wished one of the two had _already_ died before he'd arrived, because it would have spared him the weight of such a choice.

 _'No. That's wrong. I shouldn't...I'm not…'_

But his treacherous thoughts would not be held back, for he could not forget that he had wished them dead to spare himself.

Nor would they let him forget _who_ he had wished had already been dead.

 _'No…please, I…'_

It made him feel sick, like human trash, that he'd thought for even a fleeting moment that things would be easier if Phelan hadn't been found alive.

 ** _'Murderer...'_** some part of him whispered.

"No. I'm..."

 ** _'Murderer...'_** it came again, more insistent.

"No, I…I…"

"Well, Mister Matou? Which one shall it be?" Quirrell's voice broke in, interrupting his spiral of madness. "Will you choose Mister Noel of Gryffindor? Or your good friend, Mister Macmillan? Delay further and _both_ will die."

"Macmillan," Shinji said, almost spat out, as agony rippled through him, and Quirrell simply nodded, as he knelt between the boys and grabbed their ankles with pale hands.

"Very well then," the man directed, as he took hold of the two. "Grab onto my robes, or onto one of your colleagues. We go. _Now_."

The boy did so, just as the Portkey engaged, with the boy feeling like someone had strung a metal hook behind his navel and had ripped him through space and time, entrails first.

He almost screamed – save that he could not breathe, feeling like he was hurtling forward at some incredible rate – only to crash into the ground with a thud as he materialized, whereupon he emptied the contents of his stomach.

It took him precious seconds to begin to orient himself again, precious seconds in which to—

"Come along, Mister Matou," Quirrell intoned, looking at Shinji expectantly as the boy slowly managed to get to his feet. "I can't carry both Macmillan and Noel. You take Macmillan – you take the other, and follow me. And mind _how_ you carry him this time? Dropping him may well kill him."

Shinji lifted the mangled body of Phelan Noel with care, trying not to feel guilty about the fact that the boy would soon be a corpse if neither Madam Pomfrey or Headmaster Dumbledore were at the infirmary.

The fact that because of him, Amber would no longer have a brother.

Or the Gryffindors a member of their house.

Maybe even a friend.

 _'They'll hate me...'_

And they would have every reason to, given that he would effectively be Phelan's murderer. What happened to Filch - well, that was an accident. But Phelan...Quirrell had the power to save him, and yet he'd chosen…

If only...

 _No._

But, maybe...

 _No._

There was no point.

There was no way to avoid it, no third option that presented itself, only the cold logic of the situation: someone would die, that another might live.

 _'Please. If there's some way...any way...'_

He'd chosen the wrong thing, he now knew.

He shouldn't have tried to save Filch. He shouldn't have valued someone who was...only a hindrance, in the end. If he could have just let Filch die, then...

"We're here," Quirrell said, opening the door to the infirmary to find a very tired, very old looking Albus Dumbledore appearing in a burst of flames, looking at them quizzically, as if surprised to see them. "Albus," he greeted with a nod. "I have two more in critical condition. Students. Oh, and how is Argus?"

"Dead," the Headmaster replied flatly, his expression drawn. "What...?"

"The Chamber of Secrets," Quirrell answered, with Dumbledore not reacting for a moment, before literally jerking backwards as he processed the Defense Professor's words. "They were attacked by some of the creatures within. Gytrashes. I've done what I can, but..."

"Wait in my office," the old man directed, some resolve seeming to fill his fragile seeming frame. "I will take these two to St. Mungo's..."

In another flash of fire, he was gone, taking Phelan and Ernie with him, leaving Matou Shinji alone with the Defense Professor.

"I doubt the Headmaster would have come back, if Argus' condition had been in any doubt," Quirrell noted grimly. "If the man had seemed as if he might live, Albus would no doubt have remained at St. Mungo's to watch over him, and one of your friends would have died in his place. As it is…the math remains the same. One dies, that one might live. Only now, that death is no longer something you have to bear on your conscience, is it?"

Shinji thought there was something wrong with that statement, since he had just wished that he had let Filch die instead, but he could not find it in himself to care, with everything else drowned out by a sense of relief - and joy - joy that it was someone else who died, joy that he would not be responsible for telling Amber her brother was...

"Yes, that's right. You should rejoice, Matou Shinji," Quirrell observed, his voice quiet indeed, "for your wish, has been granted. Come. We'll wait for the Headmaster in his office, hm?"

Shinji nodded, following numbly as the Defense Professor led him away.

* * *

It was hours before the Headmaster returned, collapsing into his chair, and all but demanding to know what exactly had happened.

Shinji, for his part, complied, giving as accurate an account of the events as he could, and trying to protect Ernie and Phelan from possible punishment by shouldering the blame.

After all, it had been _his_ idea to use Mopsus. _His_ lead they'd followed when deciding to remove the sink. _His_ failure to properly immobilize or carry Filch, and his lack of medical knowledge that had caused this. Professor Quirrell had done nothing but help him, giving him advice, giving him a choice…

"If it wasn't for the Professor, all three would be dead, sir. Because of me," Shinji said, looking down with an absolutely devastated expression on his face. This was it. The moment he would expelled. Would be cast out of this newfound world like a piece of trash…

Dumbledore sighed as he heard Shinji's explanation, nodding wearily.

"Is what he says true, Quirinus?" he asked, turning to the Defense Professor.

"From a certain point of view, Headmaster," Quirrell supplied. "What he left out was that on seeing the harm caused to Argus Filch, he immediately tried to do what he could for the man, despite his lack of knowledge and inexperience. That he did not flee, like his friends, speaks very well of him. He made sure Mister Filch would receive treatment, and after that, accompanied me to see to his friends. He's a very loyal young man."

Shinji felt himself shrinking at Quirrell's words, given that he didn't think they were true at all. Yes, he'd done those things, but it…

"And you believe what was discovered was the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Well, it was filled with dangerous beasts, and lined with carvings of snakes, was it not?" Quirrell asked in turn. "And then there was the basilisk skin we found there, though of course, no basilisk."

"A basilisk, you say," Dumbledore questioned, clearly taken aback by this revelation. "Do you believe this to be a present danger, Quirinus?"

"I do not," Quirrell answered "After all, there was no basilisk to be found, and no place where it could nest. Wherever the beast that shed its skin might be, it is not in the area that was discovered. Perhaps it left long ago, after killing Myrtle Warren. Perhaps it escaped."

"A most uncomfortable thought. I will have to contact the Ministry about this," the Headmaster said softly, shaking his head. "To think that students would have done this..."

"Accidents happen, unfortunately, and neither Mister Noel or his associates could have had any idea of what was to occur," Quirrell reasoned. "it is true that they destroyed school property, but in their defense, that sink had never worked anyway – nor does anyone use that bathroom, as you well know. As to the matter of Argus – as I have mentioned, Mister Matou went out of his way to try and save the man, and as for his friends, well – they were young and inexperienced, and now have had a close brush with death."

The Defense Professor shook his head.

"What happened to them is a worse punishment than anything you could inflict, short of imprisonment for murder, and I think you'll agree that none of them deserve that."

"No, that they do not," Dumbledore agreed, sadly. "Expulsion, perhaps, but…"

"When people fall, Headmaster, do we help them learn to get up, or do kick them into a shallow ditch? Mister Noel, Mister Matou, and Mister Macmillan made a mistake and have paid for it. Will you condemn them further?"

"….no," the Headmaster answered, closing his eyes. "And the matter of Miss Granger and her broken wand...?"

"I will see to it that she obtains a replacement, Headmaster. It is partially my fault for not restraining her from racing to the scene of the accident and coming to such a misunderstanding," Quirrell says, lowering his head. "In that sense, if there is anyone at fault for _that_ particular tragedy, it is I, so please, allow me to make amends." The man spread his hands placatingly. "Aside from that, these boys accomplished something no one ever thought possible. They discovered the Chamber of Secrets."

"I cannot grant an award in this matter. Not given what else happened."

"Nor am I asking for one. I am simply saying that it would be a shame if such promising young students were to face severe repercussions for something that was largely out of their control."

Dumbledore sighed.

"I do not like this situation," he admitted, "but we do not always see only what we wish, do we, Quirinus?"

"If we did, Headmaster, the world would be a very different place indeed," Quirrell noted distantly, the corners of his lips tugging upwards ever so slightly. "Instead of crediting them then, perhaps you could credit me, so that officially, it would be the Defense Professor of Hogwarts who discovered the Chamber – perhaps with Argus also given credit. That way, the faculty of Hogwarts will be praised – as will you, for hiring me. Argus then, may be listed as having died when the Chamber was opened, and helping to expose its secrets to the world."

Dumbledore's jaw set into a hard line at this suggestion, though in the end, he nodded, as it was the only practical way to contain any fallout. Or to bring any honor to poor Argus in the end.

"And the boys?"

"As boys do, recklessly injured themselves believing the Chamber was safe," Quirrell supplied. "That is no crime, after all."

"…the official report will be as you say, Quirinus."

"Thank you, Headmaster. For not ruining the lives of three young boys," the Defense Professor said, with Shinji bowing deeply.

"Thank you, sir," he whispered, almost in tears. "Thank you…"

"My dear boy…"

"With that said, I do believe that there is the matter of the Basilisk skin?" Quirrell inquired.

"What about it, Quirinus?"

"If I am to be the discoverer of record, will you allow me to handle the matter? It is my belief that if Mister Matou and his companions find themselves in danger once more - and you and I both know that the more adventurous are rarely deterred by a single incident - then they should have something to protect themselves. Or at least, something to remind them of what they suffered, so they do not forget."

Dumbledore gave the man a hard look. He had already given much, and this newest request…

Still, it made sense.

"Do as you like, though enough will need to remain that a team from the Ministry may attempt to track the beast," he instructed.

"Of course, Headmaster. I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise,"

* * *

Things went much as Quirrell had foreseen, and shortly after Halloween **,** Quirinus Quirrell and Argus Filch (posthumously) were honored with the Order of Merlin (3rd Class), one of the highest honors of Wizarding Britain, for their roles in jointly discovering the legendary Chamber of Secrets.

Rumors of what had happened spread, with different accounts depending on what happened, though all could agree that with the Chamber finally discovered, Myrtle Warren had at least found the peace she needed to move on to the next great adventure.

After all, after that day, no one ever saw her at Hogwarts ever again.


	12. Shifting Faults

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 11.** _Shifting Faults_

In the wake of what was being termed the Chamber of Secrets Incident, Matou Shinji found himself feeling very ill at ease about everything that had transpired. It wasn't that his friends needed to be hospitalized for several weeks in St. Mungo's Creature-induced Injuries wing, to recover from their rather brutal mauling, as he was simply happy that they'd lived. It wasn't that Professor Quirrell – and Hogwarts, by extension, claimed the credit for discovering the legendary Chamber of Secrets; that was a small price to pay for he and his friends being spared expulsion and imprisonment.

It wasn't even that he had been unable to save Argus Filch's life. Admittedly, coming to terms with the fact that because of him, a man was dead, had been quite difficult, but the Professor's words – that if Filch had lived, one of his friends would have died in his place helped blunt the worst of his soul-searching.

He could live with the fact that an unpleasant man who he knew little about was dead, live with the fact that perhaps he had unconsciously known that not everyone could be saved, and perhaps had acted on that knowledge in mishandling the body.

Yes, he told himself that it hadn't been deliberate. That he had tried his best with what he knew at the time, but whether it was true, or whether he was just telling himself that…

' _I don't know. And in some ways, I'll never know…'_

What made him truly uneasy was how most of those around him were all-too-ready to buy into the cover story concocted by Professor Quirrell: that as Shinji and Quirrell had gone to get help for Filch in the wake of the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets, Ernie and Phelan, seeing a chance to explore an untouched part of the school, had sneaked by them and entered the tunnels below – where sadly, they were brought low by some of the creatures within.

Most of the Hufflepuffs his year saw him as a hero for not only doing his part to try to save Filch's life, but for going after the others, since Quirrell had said that without him, only one of the boys would likely have survived.

' _Why…why do they treat me like I did something good? Something noble? I wanted a man to die and he did!'_

It would have been easier if his peers had looked at him hatefully, thought of him as a monster who had somehow managed to escape any penalty for his crimes.

And yet none of them did, overawed by the fact that _he had been there_ when the Chamber of Secrets had been revealed to the world.

Unable to bear the weight of their regard, the boy had revealed the truth of the situation to Miyuki-senpai in the privacy of her greenhouse, thinking that she at least, would treat him as he deserved to be treated, but no matter how much he insisted he was a vile murderer, that she should hate him, should spurn him, should at least strike him for his cowardice and his weakness, the older Hufflepuff had not.

"You are already punishing yourself far more than anyone else could, Matou," she observed, her fingers brushing his cheek and the line of his jaw, before falling away, making him long for the comfort of her touch.

"…you don't think I'm a hero too, do you?"

"I do not," the raven-haired girl had replied, much the boy's relief. "I think you are someone who has suffered just as much as those who you wished to save, whose wounds run just as deep, even if they are invisible to the eye."

"I deserve to…someone has to know…has to remember the truth."

"Matou," the girl murmured, raising a slim eyebrow as she regarded him with her amber-colored eyes. "The truth is rarely as simple as you think. What you consider your truth might not be what another considers truth. And both of your truths may yet be wrong."

"…huh?" Shinji asked, confused by Miyuki's words. What did she mean about these multiple truths, or that a truth could be wrong?

"Tell me…what do you regret most about what happened?" she asked, looking up at the silver moon. "Is it really the death of Argus Filch, or is it something else?"

The boy was silent for over a minute as he stood there, thinking.

"…it's how weak I was…" Shinji admitted, his gaze fixed firmly at his feet. "I couldn't do anything on my own. I couldn't save anyone. Not Ernie. Not Phelan. Not even Filch. Everything…everything was done by someone else, and I could only _watch_." The boy shrank in on himself, hunching over as he drew in a breath so grief-stricken it was almost a sob. "This time…this time the person who died was…" _'Trash,'_ a treacherous voice whispered in the back of his mind. "…was just some…janitor," he muttered. "What if it hadn't been?"

What if it had been Natsumi who had been injured? Or…

' _What if it had been senpai…?'_

The boy's body shuddered at the thought of Miyuki-senpai injured like Filch had been. If he made the same mistakes, then it wouldn't be an unpleasant Squib who died, but…

"You are afraid…"

"…yes," the boy whispered, closing his eyes in shame. "I came to Hogwarts to get away from my weakness. To become something more than what I was. But in the end, nothing is different. I thought Mopsus made me strong, but…"

Power meant nothing without the knowledge of how to use it properly, and the exhilaration of being able to just move things with his mind had blinded him to all the things he could not do when under its influence.

…things like cast a simple wand-lighting spell, or any number of basic cantrips which might have been so very useful.

The boy gasped as someone – _senpai –_ touched him on the shoulder, opening his eyes involuntarily to find the beautiful raven-haired girl crouched before him.

"Then if you are weak, let us become strong…together," she suggested, with an expression on her face that he could not – would not – refuse.

"…yes."

Over the next few weeks, in exchange for allowing her to use the annotated Potions book he had obtained some time ago, he learned much about Transfiguration from her, as well as the basics of, if not healing spells – since, she confessed, she did not know those – at least basic first aid, and some spells one might find useful when used in conjunction with it.

 _Petrificus Totalus,_ for instance, could be used to immobilize someone who had suffered a head or neck injury.

Bluebell flames, or Cold Fire, as the spell was sometimes called – a variant of _Incendio Tria_ which did not burn humans – could be used to burn away constricting clothing or other flammable matter without harming someone who was already injured.

His _Gemino_ spell could be quite useful for creating more supplies if he needed them, so long as they were non-magical in nature.

And _Wingardium Leviosa_ could be used to lift objects off of a person, though it was rather impractical for moving people around, since it did not work on humans.

"Oh. I didn't know the spell was so…limited," Shinji admitted. "I thought I might be able to use it to fly."

"You would not be the first, Matou."

"…senpai, don't tell me you…"

The girl chuckled.

"Not I. Another."

"Who?"

"Someone I used to know."

At one point in their training, she even gave him a large, well-stocked first-aid kit, which she created by duplicating hers. When he protested he had no real place for it, Miyuki transfigured into something like a bracer for him to wear, slipping it over his hand with a gentle smile.

"With this, you will never be caught unprepared, so long as you remember how to undo a transfiguration," she told him, with the boy being nearly beside himself in gratitude over someone – someone who wasn't family – giving him a gift.

"You…you're too kind to me, senpai."

"No. I am not kind at all," she murmured in reply, her voice distant as it sometimes was. "One day, perhaps you will realize that, Matou."

Surprised by her words, the boy glanced at the older Hufflepuff to see that on her face once more was a melancholic, lonesome smile which made his chest…ache.

'… _senpai…'_

* * *

Of course, Miyuki-senpai wasn't the only one the boy found himself working with in his quest to become stronger, merely the most memorable.

After all, he also regularly worked with Sokaris, Natsumi and Ernie (once he was released from St. Mungo's) on Potions in the library, mostly looking things up for the purple-haired girl and acting as a gofer, while trying to understand just how she was able to derive the ideal recipe for a potion just by looking at the effects.

'… _or how Natsumi seems to grasp it so easily.'_

In some ways, he envied the chestnut-haired girl. She was a sight more cheerful than he was, after all, and despite her insecurities, was someone who tended to get along well with most others.

And Ernie…

"Look, I don't blame you for what happened," the blond had grumbled after being pestered by Shinji on whether or not the boy was alright. "It was our fault for running into that…mess." Macmillan seemed rather more focused and intense after the incident, pouring himself into potions with a fervor even Shinji found a little shocking. "…thanks for getting Quirrell to save our sorry hides."

What could he have really said to that?

He'd asked as much to Ernie, with the blond Hufflepuff snorting in amusement.

"…you're welcome would have been more than enough," the boy had replied. "Just…next time we go on an adventure, remind me not to listen to Phelan."

"…I'll try to remember that," Shinji had noted weakly

"Good."

"How is he, anyway?" the boy from the east had asked, looking down.

"The same as always," Ernie had sighed despondently. "'This – this is nothing! It wouldn't keep Lockhart down, so it won't keep me!' he was saying. It's like the fact we nearly died means nothing to him."

"I doubt that," Shinji had responded. "Maybe its just how he deals with weirdness."

"Ha. Could be," Ernie had admitted. "Back to the books, eh?"

And so they'd turned back to their current task – re-engineering the recipe for the Wiggenweld Potion, as had become something of a point of pride for the group. Well, more for Sokaris and Natsumi than the rest, though the others enjoyed the fruits of those labors, and at least appreciated the chance to learn what they could of Alchemy.

Though speaking of Alchemy…

"Sokaris?"

"Yes?" the dusky-skinned Ravenclaw inquired as she looked up from her calculations.

"You know a bit about Alchemy, right?" he asked, if only to confirm what he already knew.

"Yes."

"Then…have you ever heard the tragedy of Nicholas the Wise?" the Japanese boy questioned, only to see the purple-haired girl's face remain utterly impassive, as if he hadn't even spoken. "I mean, Nicholas Flamel. Have you heard of him?"

"The Alchemist said to have invented the Philosopher's Stone," the Ravenclaw replied mildly, as she regarded him with something very much like curiosity. "Why?"

"Well, Professor Quirrell mentioned something about him. Something about his apprentice betraying him?" the boy thought he recalled. "Only, I don't think I ever heard who his apprentice was."

"He has had many over his many years of life," Sokaris said softly. "Of which do you speak?"

"His most…recent one?" Shinji hazarded. "I mean, if you happen to know, that is."

"A simple enough question," the purple-haired alchemist observed. "As we have all met him."

"…you can't mean…" Natsumi commented, having been listening in. "Professor Slughorn?! He is…"

"No."

But Sokaris' reply was cool and abrupt.

"Oh. Then…who?"

"It's Quirrell, isn't it?" Ernie chimed in. "That's how he knows so much about—"

"No."

Sokaris' voice, this time, was somewhat frostier, for all that it was barely a whisper, the sudden change causing the others to regard her warily.

"…then, who?" Shinji prompted softly.

"Albus Dumbledore," the purple-haired girl spoke, with the boy from the east taken aback by her response.

"The Headmaster?" Ernie noted, narrowing his eyes, as he tried to recall what little had heard about the Headmaster's alchemical past. "But he…

"…his specialty is Dragon's Blood, if I remember correctly," Shinji supplied, causing the Natsumi and Ernie to look at him oddly. "What?"

"…how id you know that, Matou-kun?" Natsumi inquired.

"Nigel?" Sokaris questioned, raising an eyebrow as she glanced over at him.

"Yes, that's right," he told her, before turning to Natsumi. "My flying partner, Nigel Wroxton."

"And how does _he_ know of the Headmaster's past?" Ernie asked suspiciously. "It's not like the old man talks about it much."

"Because Dumbledore saved his life," Shinji replied, trying to reconcile the image of Albus Dumbledore with that of a treacherous apprentice who had stolen the Philosopher's Stone from his Master. _'When Professor Quirrell said that Flamel's apprentice betrayed him, I wasn't expecting someone so…old.'_

"Matou. Recount this…tragedy as you heard it," the purple-haired Ravenclaw asked of him, her purple eyes looking into his intently.

"Uh…ok," Shinji agreed, proceeding to do so.

"…and were it in your power, would you desire the Stone for yourself?" she inquired, her voice dangerously quiet.

"…I wouldn't wish it destroyed, at least," the boy said fervently, rising to his feet as he glared at the girl. "For such an artifact to be cast away like it was rubbish…no, I will never accept that. Someone who would want to do that is unworthy of its power."

Suddenly realizing that the others at his table were staring at him, the boy blushed and sat down.

"Most curious," Sokaris noted solemnly. "No doubt Professor Quirrell feels the same way."

"Mm, no…"

Shinji's thoughts went cold as he followed the girl's words to their inevitable conclusion. She couldn't mean…but if…wait…

' _The Headmaster is Flamel's apprentice. Quirrell believes that there is no good or evil,_ only power, and those too weak to seek it. _Does Quirrell means to…?_ '

No. That…it couldn't be. If that was so…

' _Don't tell me. It's at_ Hogwarts. _The Philosopher's Stone is at Hogwarts…hidden. Somewhere…'_

The boy's mouth went dry at the thought.

If he found it. Claimed it. Then…

' _But where is it?'_

Now…that was the question.

…not that he thought he'd have the power to hold such a relic on his own, and without it, any claim he held over the Stone, presuming he managed to get past whatever traps laid by Flamel's treacherous apprentice, would be very short-lived.

' _Right now…I'm still too weak. Too weak to obtain a power that can keep everyone I care about from dying. But that is only the case right now…'_

Not that defeating an old and powerful wizard would be easy, especially if he _had_ apprenticed under Flamel and had learned the man's tricks.

' _What to do…what to do?'_

"Matou…is something wrong?" Ernie questioned, with the blond frowning at the rapidly changing expressions on Shinji's face, expressions of fear, rage, hate, and naked desire flitting along one after another.

"…huh?" Shinji asked, the voice of his friend breaking him from his runaway thoughts. "I…I was just thinking," he offered lamely, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. "I'm…just going to take a walk. Grab some fresh air. I'll be right back."

He wanted to clear his head, since right now there was no way he could study.

Not with thoughts of the Stone and the promise it held filling his mind, whispering to him like a siren song.

' _No. I…what's wrong with me. I just went on a mad adventure where my friends nearly died, and I'm thinking about challenging Flamel's treacherous apprentice in the seat of his power…?'_

That…would be like challenging a magus in their workshop.

Suicide.

And yet.

Part of him didn't care. Now that he knew how fragile human lives could be, his desire for the Stone had awakened…

The boy shook his head, walking out of the library as—

"Matou."

—a most unpleasant voice called out to him.

"What do you want with me, Granger?" he asked, not bothering to turn around and face her, though he had a good idea of where she'd been if he hadn't noticed here.

' _Leaning against the wall next to the library doors, no doubt.'_

"Have you changed your tune at last?" he pressed, when she didn't answer. "Decided to treat me like an actual human being?"

"We need to talk," the bushy-haired brunette said at last, her voice determined – resolved.

"We're talking now, aren't we?" the boy commented. "Or did you have something else in mind?"

"…I can't believe I'm saying this, but there are too many people around," she replied, looking about almost…furtively. "Come with me."

Without another word, she began walking off, the sound of her footsteps quickly receding, and Shinji, curious as to why she had chosen to approach him like this, turns and follows, against his better judgement.

She led him to an unused classroom on the third floor, gesturing for him to in before her, which he does, as if to show that he doesn't mind turning his back on her – that he considers her no threat.

The room was old and in disrepair, with furniture piled all about haphazardly.

' _I guess even in a magical school, some things don't change.'_

"Nice place," he drawled. "Come here often, Granger?"

"No."

The girl was quiet, eyeing him warily as if he was some sort of predator who would lunge the moment she let her guard down.

"Well, you wanted to talk, and you brought me here, so talk, Granger," Shinji all but commanded, with the brunette fighting down a visible tremor as she gripped the wand she'd hidden under her robes.

" _Leave Sokaris alone,_ " she demanded in a low, insistent voice.

"…what."

"I don't know what kind of hold you have over her, Matou," the girl continued, as if he had not spoken. "What weakness of hers you've latched onto in order to make her obey like this. It's wrong."

"I'm…what the hell are you talking about?"

"She's not like this. Not like you!" the girl nearly spat, her wand drawn now, though not yet pointed at the boy. "She's a good person."

"I know she is," Shinji said sincerely, shaking his head. "A better person than I could ever hope to be."

"Then why are you forcing her to do these things against her will? To say things she doesn't mean? To…to cheat!" Hermione managed to squeak out, her face red with exertion.

"…what do you mean, 'cheat'?" Shinji asked, bewildered by the accusation.

"What do you mean, 'what do you mean?'" the girl shot back, bewildered that anyone could be _ignorant_. It _had_ to be an act – it just _had_ to be. "You…you…" She groped for words as her mind failed her for a moment. "You're a cheater. In potions. The four of you. Suzuki, Macmillan, you…and Sokaris. Slughorn told us to work in pairs!"

"And? What's your point?"

"He didn't say you could work in a group of four!" Hermione raged, with her new cherry and dragon heartstring wand pointed at the boy. "Three Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw. You've been using her. Taking advantage of what she knows. Stop this, Matou. Do the right thing."

"If you think its cheating," the boy said, after a moment, his voice low and dangerous. "Why don't you tell Slughorn about it? If you think _all four of us_ are cheaters."

The girl flushed violently, her eyes widening with rage at what this…this insolent Hufflepuff was insinuating.

"I _know_ Sokaris. I sat with her on the train coming to Hogwarts. She's not the kind of person who would do this," Hermione almost hissed. "She doesn't deserve to be expelled. Not like you. You're a monster. A _murderer."_

"…it's funny," Shinji spat. "You call me a murderer, and yet you're the one threatening me with a wand. I wonder what a teacher might say if they saw us right now, saw poor Miss Granger holding a student hostage."

Hermione Granger flinched at his words, but she didn't back down.

"I'll give you one more chance, Matou," she growled. "One more chance to do the right thing. To make the right choice and stop forcing Sokaris into your schemes. If you have any human decency at all…"

"I can't."

"What do you mean you—"

"I mean Sokaris is working with me of her own free will," Shinji explained, his expression turning predatory as the girl paled.

"You—you can't—"

"Face it Granger, she likes me _better than she likes you_."

The chairs just behind him _disintegrated_ as the girl's arm flinched.

'… _what the—'_

"I know what people like you are like," she spat. "I dealt people like you for years. They use people, use them up and throw them away when they're no longer _useful_. Well, I won't let that happen to Sokaris. Because compared to her, you should be the one who is thrown away! And when everyone else realizes that, they'll do what you do to others. They'll throw you away like a piece of trash."

"Throw…me…away," Shinji repeated, his voice distant, dead, hollow. "Throw….throw me away?" he echoed, as if unable to believe his ears, as he began to sway from side to side. "Throw? Throw? Throw? **Ah…** " The boy shuddered, his vision glazing over as he shrank into himself, his body shaking. "Thrown away? Thrown away. Thrown away thrown away thrown away thrown away…" the words spilled out from within him, one after another, before the boy laughed, a sound like jagged metal edges rubbing against each other escaping his lips as he rocked in place.

"Matou Shinji thrown away, yes. What I deserve, to be thrown away. Like trash," he whispered in a voice not his own, his eyes bright and wide as he stared at the girl, baring his teeth as he took a step towards her. "Hated. Hated hated hated hated!" His features twisted, contorting into something not quite human as Granger took a step back, despite the wand she carried.

Laughter burst full and unrestrained from the boy's throat, his mouth contorting into a rictus that made cruel mockery of everything a smile should be.

"I…I…I…"

"Monster," Hermione whispered, levelling her wand. "I'm…I'm not…"

Moments later, an inhuman shriek filled the air.

* * *

When Matou Shinji came to, he was laying in a bed in the hospital wing, with a very worried Natsumi watching over him.

"Oh, thank goodness – you woke up!" she cried, gripping his sleeve in relief. "When we found you in that classroom, alone after that terrible sound…and some kind of puddle, we…"

"…you…you were worried. About me?" the boy said in wonder, as if he couldn't actually believe it. He tried to sit up, but winced, feeing his head – his entire body – throbbing painfully, as if it was not his own, as he lay back down again.

His skin felt…sore. Like it had been burned…

"You left for so long and didn't come back…" Natsumi said, holding onto his hand tightly. "And then…that scream…"

"Scream?"

"…you don't remember?" the chestnut-haired Hufflepuff asked, blinking. "It…we could hear it from the library. You must have been…what happened?"

"…I…I don't really remember?" the boy told her, finding a curious blank in his memories. "I remember that when I left the library, Granger said she wanted to talk, but after that…"

"She…did she do something to you?!" Natsumi almost snapped, her voice sharp, before she looks down. "I mean...if you don't mind saying..."

"…I really don't remember, Natsumi," Shinji admitted, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

Natsumi frowned on hearing that Hermione somehow drove her...friend into this sort of state. Admittedly, she didn't know much about this sort of thing, but memory loss was very serious – even she knew that much.

"What did she say?" she asked plaintively, as she gripped his sleeve. "Why…did you go with her?"

"Something about…Sokaris, maybe?" Shinji offered, raising his arm to scratch his head, but deciding against it once his body began to scream in protest. "I can't…everything's a mess."

"Has this…something like this…happened before?" the chestnut-haired girl asked in a small voice. "You…forgetting things. Like this?"

"…yes."

"Is that why you're practicing Occlumency? So you can better remember what happens?"

"You're half right, I guess," the boy admitted with a deep sigh. "It wasn't the reason at first. But maybe, if I work hard enough I can…"

He didn't look especially hopeful.

"I just wish I knew what she did to me. Why it hurts so much…"

Shinji closed his eyes, feeling a tear or two trickling out onto his cheeks and sliding down his face.

"It's just…so hard sometimes…"

His fellow Hufflepuff comforted him as best she could, standing with him and keeping him company for what have been close to an hour before Madam Pomfrey shooed her away so he could rest.

It was not until quite a while later, after she had left, that Matou Shinji noticed a folded-up package that had been left on the table beside the bed – which, upon opening, apparently contained a decent sized portion of Basilisk skin, large enough to make a garment out of.

" _To aid you, no matter what you choose."_ The note within read. _"Do as you will."_

It could only have been Professor Quirrell who had left this for him. But when? And why?

He didn't know, and that uncertainty troubled him more than he could say.


	13. Apocrypha

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 12.** _Apocrypha_

On the night before Halloween, Matou Shinji _dreamed_ , and in the dream, he found himself standing at the conclusion of what must have been a terrible battle, with the rubble and ruins strewn all around him. Before him lay the broken body of his vanquished foe, a black-haired youth with a distinctive lightning bolt scar, the hilt of a shattered sword still clenched tightly in a severed hand, with the remains of what might have been a wand laying near him, just out of reach.

"I know you're not dead, Potter," he found himself calling out, and indeed, the other's chest was still moving.

"I have nothing to say to you, Matou," the other hissed, angry green eyes snapping open to glare at him. "Because of you...because of you...you-!"

"I don't care what you think of me," Shinji said evenly, regarding the body of his foe with something like pity. "You made your choice, and I made mine."

"You...you would let thousands die, let half a nation be slaughtered, for the sake of a single person's happiness?" the other spoke, eyes accusing. "You - doing this, you're nothing but a monster. I can't believe I ever called you my friend."

But Matou Shinji did not flinch from the accusation. He did not rear back or feel any spark of anger.

He only laughed, the dark and terrible sound filling the air as his foe looked on in horror and disgust.

"Are you even-"

"I swore an oath long ago," he said, cutting off his fallen opponent. "To be a single person's ally, even if it cost me everything, even if the world itself became my enemy. Those thousands you've mentioned? Half a nation? A tragedy, but compared to what might be? A _bargain_."

"They—Hillard was your friend, Matou! Don't you even care that by doing this, you're dooming them, spitting on everything—"

"It doesn't matter," Matou Shinji intoned with finality. "What matters is that this charade is over. That your pitiful attempts to stop what must be have failed. Stop this madness, Potter. Surrender, and I will see that you and those you love are spared, however little you may deserve it."

The other sighed heavily.

"It's not like I have a choice, do I?" the black-haired youth asked bitterly. "Fine, I surrender."

Matou Shinji exhaled, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as he smiled, ever so slightly.

"Good. I'm glad you came around in the end. I was afraid—"

But his happiness was short-lived as the other wizard's remaining hand moved, reaching for something in his robes—

 _Thump._

—only for the Japanese boy to close the distance in the blink of an eye, severing the offending limb at the elbow and sending it flying with something like a scythe as the other screamed, more in fury than in pain.

"So even that was a trick, Potter?" he murmured to himself, as he raised his weapon a final time. "That's how it is, huh? As you long as you draw breath, you'll never give up,"

"No…wait. Are you sure you want to do this?" the other hissed, his face twisted by desperation. "The device – what I carry – is only stable because its tied to my life and magic. If you strike me down..." The black-haired youth glared up at him defiantly. "Can you afford to do that, knowing what might happen? Will you doom the world by—"

"Goodbye Harry."

But the other was not allowed to finish, as the scythe came down, and—

Matou Shinji woke screaming, white hot pain burning in his head as what he'd seen began to slip away, even as a sense of profound sorrow welled up within him, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

 _'Why...why am I crying?'_ he wondered. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. So why did it feel like more? Why did it feel that something precious had been lost, even as something else had been protected? The youth from his dream had called him a monster - and his dream-self had agreed, declaring himself the enemy of the world. _'Is Granger right about me? Am I that kind of person? A monster willing to let thousands die? Willing to kill someone in cold blood?'_

It shook him to the core, more than even the memory of Matou Zouken calling him worthless, or the memory of being consumed by thousands upon thousands of worms. It...what the person had said...what had that person said? The boy shook his head and concentrated, but the specifics were already mostly gone, except for the vivid memory of him bringing the scythe down, the poignant feeling of loss, and the knowledge that if pushed to it, he could very well be a monster.

 _'I...'_ He couldn't handle this alone. He needed to talk to someone. Someone who might understand. Or at least someone who might listen without judging.

But who...?

 _'Senpai...?'_ Yes. Miyuki-senpai would listen, he was sure of it, and wouldn't judge him for feeling what he did. He'd already told her...told her something about himself, though he'd forgotten most of what he'd said.

Maybe Sokaris. She seemed to be patient enough to listen to someone's troubles, given her attitude towards Nigel, and maybe it would be good to have someone he didn't know quite as well...

Or perhaps Professor Quirrell? Surely the man had experienced...terrible things in his life and might have some advice. Even for someone who might very well be a monster.

' _No. I'll talk to Sokaris.'_

She would be the best one to talk to about this, since while Miyuki-senpai would no doubt listen, he didn't want to worry her even more than he already had or take advantage of her kindness. Not when she'd already done so much for him, given him so much of her time - called him her friend, despite him not having done anything to deserve that.

 _'At least with Sokaris, she and I know where we stand...'_

That particular relationship was a much less...complicated, with her willing to help him so long as he made it worth her while in some way. Though...now that he thought about it, maybe she was only like that to keep people from taking advantage of what she could do, much like Miyuki-senpai, since she seemed to make time for Nigel, much in the same way Miyuki-senpai did for him.

Still, as everything was give and take with Sokaris, what could he bring her that she would listen to him?

 _'Maybe...the journal grandfather sent me?'_

He'd gotten it only a few days ago from his grandfather, in response to his query about ways to deal with ghosts _–_ a weathered old thing filled with dense notes, written mostly in Russian, a language that he didn't understand.

At least, he thought it was Russian, due to the odd Cyrillic lettering in which it was written. Well, it was either that or Greek, and as he knew a bit of the latter due to his study of the Matou texts, he didn't think it was that. He supposed that perhaps it could have been written in a cipher as well, in which case, there was little hope for him figuring out the contents, but he didn't think so, since there were a few pages here and there where annotations had been added in the same language - or later, in Japanese.

Some pages had what looked like complex equations and diagrams of the human form. Some pages depicted fairly intricate formations of runes. Some pages had sketches of what looked like immense worms, several times the size of a human (as the stick figure drawn for reference seemed to indicate). There was more beyond that, but the little he could make out was...tantalizing.

A letter included with the book had explained that since Shinji seemed to be a practitioner of Witchcraft, this journal, taken from a somewhat troublesome example Zouken dealt with years ago, might prove handy.

Still, though he'd looked at it, he couldn't really make heads or tails of it.

What secrets were hidden in his old tome? Why had the monster who was his grandfather described the former owner as being somewhat troublesome? These were all mysteries that he wanted to find out, though self-study had proven to be of little benefit.

 _'At least, Sokaris might be able to help me decipher what the equations mean...?'_ he imagined, thinking that since she seemed to have an interest in Alchemy and other unusual bits of knowledge, she might find it useful. He packed it in his bag, and quickly throwing his robes over himself, made his way out of the Hufflepuff Dorms and through the still-dark castle, over to Ravenclaw Tower.

* * *

The journey to the dark Tower was not difficult, as he'd gone there a few times by now. Entering it, however, proved somewhat more challenging, given that the way was barred by a stone door governed by a bronze eagle-shaped knocker that posed a riddle to any who sought access. And right now, Shinji was in no state to answer one, particularly one that went like this...

 _What clings to you?_

 _Bear it—you cannot._

 _Accept it—you cannot._

 _But hidden—it is from you._

 _Recite its name._

To the first couple of lines, he had been tempted to answer, "Hermione Granger", since she seemed to "cling" to him in some sense and he could not bear her presence, but she wasn't really hidden from him, was she? Was it his past? That also clung to him, and he still found it difficult to accept that he had been replaced by the Tohsaka girl even now, but...that wasn't hidden from him either. What was hidden from him was what exactly he had done during the curious lapses in his memory, when...

"...my dark side?" Shinji hazarded, wondering if that was the answer it sought. "My Shadow," he said more confidently, as the door opened with a click, and for the second time that year, he stepped into the Common Room of Ravenclaw Tower. Unlike the rather cozier Hufflepuff Commons, this one was...elegant, with graceful arched windows, blue and bronze silks hung on the walls, lush midnight-blue carpet, and a domed ceiling painted with stars – not to mention the marble statuary.

"Matou," a quiet voice greeted, with the boy glancing over to where it had come from to find Sialim Sokaris sitting in a chair by the fire, reading a treatise on the life of Nicholas Flamel, of all things. "You have something to ask of me?"

"...how did you know?" the Japanese boy asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "I could have been here for anyone."

"Unlikely," Sokaris noted, as a slim eyebrow arched. "You are not acquainted with many Ravenclaws, and the probability that you are here to visit Nigel Wroxton or Hermione Granger at this hour is minimal."

Shinji winced.

"...well, when you put it that way, I guess you have a point," he grumbled, scratching the back of his head. He really was rather...transparent, he supposed. "I wanted to show you something."

"Something?" Sokaris repeated.

"A book," Shinji clarified, as he made his way over to the seat across from her and withdrew the old tome from his bookbag. "It is...it's a journal that ended up in my family's custody somehow. I don't know who the original owner was, or how we ended up getting it, but...I thought it might catch your interest?"

He offered it to the purple-haired girl, who accepted it with a nod, after setting aside the volume in her hands. Very gently, she began to flip through the pages, her expression mostly impassive as her eyes skimmed over the contents, though she let out a small grunt as she reached the first of the equation strewn pages.

"You require assistance with deciphering these equations? And recreating the spell they refer to?"

"...is that what they are? The calculations for a spell?" Shinji muttered, blinking. "I mean, yes, I would like some help, if you would be willing."

"I am not unwilling, though it would be faster if I was able to study it in my own time," Sokaris replied simply. "As I doubt you will part with the original, perhaps a copy...?"

Shinji felt a little uneasy about that. He wasn't sure if the book was protected against duplication, and he didn't want to risk using Gemino on it...

"...I would have to ask Madam Pince, since she might be able to help me figure out if any magic protections are on the book," he said, sheepishly. "I don't want to accidentally ruin it."

"Noted," Sokaris answered. "I would not be averse to copying the contents by hand, if necessary. That way, we may study from a tome that is less likely to be damaged by our handling."

"Ah...you would be, huh?"

"This, of course, will require you to entrust me with the original for a small length of time, if you would be willing...?"

"Yes, of course," the boy replied with a small smile. "Better you than me, since I can't really do anything with it otherwise."

"Very well, and was there something else...?"

"There is, actually," the boy admitted.

He told her then about his issues - about the blackouts he had when he became overly emotional. About how after one of them, he'd heard that he attacked Quirrell. About how after another, he suspected he might have done something to Miyuki- _senpai_. About how he'd gotten angry after Granger had said something to him about him being thrown away, as...

"I…I…" the boy's face was twisted in agony, as he found it hard to breathe, the memories of what had happened threatening to overwhelm him as he closed his eyes, sinking into himself and—

"Curious..." the Ravenclaw remarked, seeing the boy before her panting and straining, all of his muscles tensed as he clutched the arms of the chair, pausing in mid-recollection. She stood up and moved in front of him, where she touched his forehead with a single finger, and the boy's body _slumped_ into his chair as his muscles went limp.

Somehow—and he didn't know why or how—he was able to control himself again. Or at least, he felt like he could, which was nearly as good.

"As I was saying, I'm not sure exactly what happens when I lose control. But I don't think it's good. I think..." he said, after regaining control of himself. "I think I might be a monster."

"She was your partner for the challenge," Sokaris stated, with Shinji jerking at this piece of information. "Granger, that is."

"Then she's right to hate me. I'm dangerous. I..." The boy looked at his hands, as if terrified that they would turn into claws before his eyes. "I could kill someone and not even know it. I—"

"-have not killed anyone, have you?"

"I-" Shinji's expression was...complicated, to say the least, given what had happened to Argus Filch. If he hadn't helped to wrench the sink from the wall, if he'd thought to keep the man's neck stable, if he hadn't dropped the man... "I...no, I mean…someone is dead yes. Because of me. But I didn't…"

"Did you want to kill him?"

"...no," Shinji said at first. "No," he repeated more softly, "though I did wish him dead."

"Why?"

"Because either he died, and my friends lived. Or he lived and they died. So, I wished for his death. That means I wanted him to die. And now he's dead. How does that make me any different than a murderer? I...I was told it wasn't my fault, but..."

"You blame yourself, even so," Sokaris summed up.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a monster!" the boy almost shouted, his breathing growing agitated. "I...Miyuki-senpai says I'm not, but she...I think she's too kind. But you...you'll tell me the truth, right?" His eyes were wide, and his expression frenzied. "Am I a monster, Sokaris? Am I?"

"Why do you believe yourself a monster?" the purple-haired girl asked, unsatisfied with the logic he'd used to come to his conclusion.

"Didn't you hear me? Someone died because of me! And I...I don't know what I'll do if I get angry anymore. Will I do what my dream said I would and kill someone? Will I..."

"You are frightened because of a nightmare," Sokaris said flatly, thoroughly unamused

"No! Yes. I - I don't know," the boy whispered, his body trembling. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid because..."

"Because you have a...dark side you cannot control?" Sokaris asked carefully.

"Because I'm afraid I'll hurt someone who cares about me!" he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut as he almost breaks down crying. "Because I..."

"Because you have the potential to be a monster," Sokaris said bluntly. "Yes, this is true."

The boy let out a strangled sound, a sound of utter despair at her words of damnation. It was true then – he could be—

"But you are not the only one."

"...what?"

"Every living being has that potential. Whether wizard, magus, practitioner of witchcraft or someone without the gift of thaumaturgy entirely."

"I...that's..."

"Yes, you could very well become a monster, Matou. The question is - do you want to be?"

"I—no! I don't – I've never wanted."

"You spoke of an incident with Tsuji Miyuki."

"Yes. I was...I thought..."

"What did she say?"

"...she said I didn't hurt her," Shinji whispered, closing his eyes as he remembered that oh-so-brittle expression on Senpai's face, and a laugh that was full of loneliness.

"Do you trust her?" Sokaris inquired after a few moments.

"W-what kind of—yes, I trust her," Shinji declared. "Why?"

"Then accept her words, Matou. And trust yourself, as she trusts you."

"But what if I...?"

"Your fear will not aid you, Matou," Sokaris replied, silencing him as her purple eyes looked into him, seeming to find him wanting. "And you fear many things. Being thought a fraud. Hurting a person who cares about you. Being replaced."

The boy jerked at her words, his face twisting into a snarl almost unwittingly.

"You react, because you are afraid. Because you believe everything you have gained could be lost from a moment's carelessness," the girl murmured. "Because you believe that if you do not push others away, they will reject you in time. Is this not so?"

"I...no...I..."

 _ **"LEAVE SOKARIS ALONE!"**_ a most unwelcome voice screamed at that moment, as a figure rushed forward and...seemed to trip over an invisible wire, her body flying through the air and crumpling to the floor as darkness overcame the light.

A menacing growl filled the air, along with suffocating aura of hatred for all creation, as where Matou Shinji had been now stood a figure of shadow and flame, a demon of vengeance and rage whose eyes blazed red. His face was angled and drawn, like that of a fell beast, and he snarling as a cloak of corrupted prana billowed like black smoke around him. His body, half insubstantial, was riddled in spikes, and claws sharp as knives took the place of his fingers.

The _creature_ sprang forward, claws extended to put an end to the foe that had troubled him for far too long, only to instinctively recoil, slamming to a halt as Sialim Sokaris moved – faster than anyone would have thought possible – interposing herself between the beast and Granger's fallen form without a trace of fear on her face.

The bestial form of what had been Matou Shinji reared, snarling at the figure before him, gesturing rudely as if commanding her to move, to step aside that it might at last destroy its hated enemy, but the purple-haired girl did not flinch.

"You believe yourself a monster, Matou Shinji? " the purple-haired girl asked, standing before the demon without a trace of fear on her face. "I have seen monsters, and were I standing before one now, I would already be dead. But I am not."

 **"-?!"**

A wordless shriek. A demand backed by the weight of a monstrous killing intent, yet Sokaris seemed utterly unfazed by it.

"To some, the unknown is terrifying. Things outside their experience. Things outside of their ability to anticipate or predict. But there is nothing about this that surprises me," Sokaris answered. "Nothing beyond my calculations. For you are not a monster, but a shadow given form."

 **"-"**

A threat. A growl. A warning not to continue, except—

"Matou Shinji fears rejection. And from that fear, you were born. Fear is all you know, and yet...fear is not your ally. Not when you see one who is unafraid." Her expression might have turned into something like a smile, as Matou Shinji's form flickered, twisted, bubbled and wavered at her words, a terrible shudder ripping through the beast's form. "Even so, will you strike me down as you fear you will?"

She spread her arms, seeming for all the world utterly defenseless.

"I stand before you, helpless, but I will not let you harm Granger while I live. Should you strike me down now, you _will_ be a monster, as you fear." The girl looked at the creature, looked into his eyes almost…challengingly. "Choose, Matou Shinji."

The monstrous form before her wavered.

" **Choose**."

With a terrible sound, the figure reeled, staggering backwards as it clutched its arms, clawed at itself, throwing itself into the wall, until slowly, gradually, it began to shift once more, the darkness bubbling away until with a strangled gasp, Matou Shinji returned to himself and the odd transformations vanished, leaving him kneeling on the ground, utterly exhausted.

This time, however, he was still conscious – his mind not allowing him to forget had happened – what he had nearly done – as it had so many times before.

"How...?" he croaked out. "How...did you know I...? Why did you...?"

"Because I knew you would not harm me, Matou," she replied with certainty. "As I am not your enemy. Much as you did not harm Tsuji."

"That was...that was...how did you know it wasn't just her I wouldn't..."

"Because you are not a monster, whatever Granger may think, and whatever you may fear," Sokaris said to him, her eyes seeming much older and wiser in that moment.

"I'm...I could still..."

"You are not defined by what you could be, but what you choose to become," she intoned, to which Shinji nodded weakly. "Remember that. Now go. Return to Hufflepuff. I will deal with Granger. And the room."

"And if I..."

"Allow your fear to pass over you and through you, Matou, without holding it within or trying to drive it out. It is natural to feel some fear, but it should not linger when there is no reason. And when it has gone, there will be nothing left but you and your choices."

Shinji nodded - no, bowed, as he rose to his feet, and very unsteadily left, leaving Sokaris alone with a mercifully unconscious Granger.

A Hermione Granger who would remember nothing of this incident.

"Perhaps he will fare better than I," she spoke to a room where none could hear, while clutching the journal she had saved from the boy's wrath. "After all, if we were to speak of monsters hiding their true selves from the eyes of others, then I am by far the more deadly."

Shaking her head, the purple-haired girl called to Tizzy, a house elf she had made the acquaintance of, as she would not be able to clean up this mess alone.

* * *

On his walk back to Hufflepuff, Matou Shinji had much to think about. This time he remembered what had happened. Not all of it, to be sure, and he wasn't sure just how it was he remembered, or why, but nevertheless, he knew the truth. That when he became overly emotional, something inside him emerged, changing him into something almost demonic.

Yet, even so, caught in the throes of incoherent rage, rage and pain so powerful as to drown out the world, he remembered himself refusing to harm Sokaris, even though she stood in his way. His body refused to harm her. To harm someone who wasn't his enemy.

Or so she explained it, anyway.

There _was_ a sense that this wasn't the entire picture, that what had made him spring away wasn't a desire not to harm someone unrelated, but a desire not to _be_ harmed…yet...that was ridiculous, since why would he…

' _Why would an_ obscurial _fear someone like Sokaris_?'

The very thought made him laugh. There was no way that could be true – it was just – his mind must still be confused by what had happened.

Yes. That was the best explanation for his state right now. But…

He shook his head.

That wasn't important. What was important was that he should...

"I need to talk to senpai..."

She'd seen his form too, probably. And yet she hadn't run away. She'd treated him so kindly, even letting him rest his head in her lap.

Why?

Why was she…?

' _I guess I'll ask.'_

* * *

He found her, as he expected, in the Hufflepuff Common room, with the girl accepting his request to talk in private in her greenhouse without comment or complaint.

Once there, the boy told her everything, fully expecting her to walk away from him, or to tell him to keep away from her and Natsumi for their safety. Only…

"I'm not going anywhere, Matou."

"Wh...at?"

"Sokaris is right, you know. I admit, when I saw you that first time – I thought your form was frightening, but you...you hurt yourself so you wouldn't hurt me. It was as if you were afraid to see me hurt – more afraid of that than anything else," she told him, as the boy broke down crying before her, with her kneeling beside him, rubbing his back. To the boy, this was an impossible scene, as never in his life had he thought anyone would simply be able to accept him, after what had become. After seeing what he could do. After what he had done. But...

He shivered at the touch of her fingers through the fabric of his robes, a maelstrom of confused and tangled emotions rushing through him.

"Why are you so kind to me, Senpai?" he wondered, his voice barely a whisper.

"You are not the only one who can be monstrous," she said simply, a beautiful, yet fragile smile painted on her lips. "And for now, at least only one person calls you that. Unlike me."

"You mean..." Shinji recalled Cho Chang's warning about there being a very dangerous person in Hufflepuff, someone who had put her friends into the hospital. "Senpai, what happened with Cho Chang?"

Her hands went still on his back.

"What do you mean, Matou?"

"I..." the boy looked down, guiltily, unable to meet her eyes. "I may have met Cho."

"May have? Did she do something to you?" Miyuki all but demanded, with Shinji surprised by the intensity of her voice.

"No! I mean, no...she didn't," the boy answered, shaking his head. "She didn't know I was a Hufflepuff at first. And when I told her, she warned me about someone who...who almost killed her friends." The boy snorted, shrinking in on himself. "Not that I'm in any position to..."

He trailed off, and for long, awkward seconds, only silence lingered in the greenhouse.

"She's not wrong," the Hufflepuff girl admitted finally. "I did almost kill them."

His senpai seemed content to leave it at that, with her as the villain, but...

"Why, senpai?" he wondered, turning to the girl he so admired. The girl who had confessed to nearly murdering a number of people. He hadn't hurt anyone, but...

"Because they tried to do the same to me," Miyuki said quietly. "For an entire year, they tormented me. Destroyed my things. Ruined my clothes. Tried to 'lose' my assignments."

"Senpai..."

"I was alone then," the raven-haired girl admitted, with Shinji feeling his heart breaking at the desolation in her voice. "There was one boy who..." She shook her head. "He left, and his friends blamed me."

 _"Senpai…"_

"For a year, they did what they would. And I - I thought they would tire of it. That they would stop. Only they did not. One day, they cornered me, trapped me in a room, so they could do as they wished, with no one to see - or stop them." Her smile, just then, was a terrible thing to behold. "The funny thing is, they thought I was trapped in a room with them, when really they were the ones who were trapped with me."

"Senpai, you..."

"I turned their things against them. Destroyed their wands, left them helpless in a room with dozens of frenzied dragons," Miyuki all but whispered. "If someone had not told Professor Sprout where they were, they would all have died."

"Someone...senpai...was that someone...?"

"Yes. They owe me their lives, and they hate me for it," the Japanese girl said without a hint of remorse. "That is why they say I am dangerous. Because on the day they tried to end me, I showed that I could end all of them instead. Tell me, Matou, do you really want to be around such a dangerous senpai? Someone people call a monster?"

Shinji swallowed.

"...you're not a monster, senpai! You had no choice!"

"We always have choices," Miyuki countered, before shaking her head. "It's just sometimes, none of them are any good, are they...?"

"No," Shinji agreed. "Sometimes they aren't." He straightened his spine and truly looked at the older girl, seeing the dignity and poise with which she carried herself - and with which she hid away so much from view. "Still, for what it's worth, senpai..."

"Yes, Matou?"

"You saved them," he said, his voice mostly free of tremors. "You saved them when you didn't have to. Would a monster do that?"

"...I suppose not. But what of you? Would a monster hurt himself to spare a mere upperclassman?"

"But you're not a—"

The boy promptly shut up, his cheeks burning furiously as his thoughts said what his lips could not.

"Not a what, Matou?" Miyuki inquired curiously.

"You're…you're not a mere upperclassman. Not to me," the boy forced himself to say, his voice barely a whisper.

"Is that so?" the girl asked with some amusement. "Then just what I am to you?"

"Miyuki-senpai is someone precious to me," the boy whispered. "The first person in the world who actually cared. Who welcomed me, instead of laughing, or pitying, or throwing me away. Senpai...accepted me, when even my family has no use for garbage like me."

"Don't call yourself that. Garbage I mean."

"Why not? It's true," Shinji replied, shaking his head. "That's what I am."

"No. It's not. No one thinks of you as garbage at Hogwarts. Not Sokaris. Not Natsumi. And certainly not me."

The boy sagged, leaning against the older girl.

"...thank you, _senpai_. What would I do without you?"

The girl chuckled.

"I wonder that myself sometimes."

Shinji nodded, before…

"Hey!" he protested, though it was somewhat half-heartedly, since she was right. Without her…he would have crumbled here at Hogwarts, given into all the things he feared, instead of seeking to be better. "Actually…I was going to ask…for a favor?"

The older Hufflepuff laughed, a quiet sound that for once, seemed rather amused instead of hollow.

"Yes?"

"I…um…will you be going to the Slug Club party tonight? On Halloween, I mean?" he asked, his face dyed crimson as he squeaked out the words.

"Why?" she inquired, communicating with a single word that he should really get to the point.

"…I said I would go, but I don't…have anything to wear."

"Explain."

"Yes, senpai…"

The girl seemed almost amused when Shinji admits that while he has multiple copies of his school robes - all made using Gemino, but that he didn't think to buy anything nicer, because he spent his pocket money on a book.

"Could you help me?" the boy asked. "I mean, you don't have to, but I know you're really good at transfiguration, so…"

"I cannot do much about the cut of whatever robes you wish me to modify. But adjusting the color and embroidery - perhaps even the material, should be acceptable. Bring me the garments to be changed."

He did so, rushing back to the dorms and returning with a bundle of his clothes, as she transfigured the coarse cottons of his shirt into black silk, with a stray piece of cloth changed into a bold amber colored tie.

And as for his robes, well, there were things one could do to make school robes more elegant, with the _Colovaria_ charm used to shift them from a matte black to shimmering iridescent hues, so that the humble work robe seemed like a magnificent cloak woven of all the colors of the rainbow. And as a final touch, she turned a pair of socks into a hat seemingly made of the same material.

"There you have it, Matou," she told him, as she handed it over. "A set of formal robes suitable for Shinji of Many Colors."

"T-thank you, senpai!" Shinji said with a deep bow. "I'll-I'll treasure these."

"You are welcome," the older Hufflepuff told him. "Just be careful, lest you accidentally end up untransfiguring them. Or destroying them in anger."

"...I'll keep that in mind," the boy managed to say, his cheeks quite warm as he thought of how he'd be wearing something made by senpai on his very skin. Wearing them would be like being…embraced by senpai in a way, since this set of clothes had been made by her for him and wasn't some mass-produced product. "Will you...will I see you tonight?"

"I am usually invited to Slug Club gatherings," the older girl noted obliquely.

"...that doesn't answer my question, senpai. You avoided answering it before as well."

"You noticed," she commented, with a chuckle. "I suppose you may see me there. If you recognize me, of course. _"_

"What do you mean - why wouldn't I recognize you?"

"Because the Halloween party is usually a masquerade, where everyone wears masks and pretends to be people they are not."

"…you mean like every other day of the year?" Shinji asked dryly.

"…yes, except more literally."


	14. Masquerade

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 13.** _Masquerade_

Fortunately for the poor boy's sanity, the day passed without further incident, with this last class of the day being a chance to catch up on his—

"…Matou, you fell asleep again!" Natsumi groused as the chestnut-haired girl shook him awake.

' _Huh? Did I…? Oh right.'_

He'd hadn't fallen asleep in a while, but after everything that had happened this morning, with him waking up from a nightmare, followed by the…incident in Ravenclaw Tower, a heart to heart with Miyuki- _senpai_ , and a full day of Transfiguration, Charms and Defense against the Dark Arts, Shinji didn't think anyone could realistically blame him for zoning out during a History of Magic lecture.

Even if, in the wake of the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets, the man had begun talking about more interesting topics such as the stories of the Four Founders, the mysteries and artifacts associated with them, and their stances on Purebloods vs those born of Magbobs (the archaic term for Muggle), as well as how their attitudes later affected wizard relations with other magical races in Britain.

Races like say…the Goblins, a group that wore their subservience to wizardkind lightly, and every now and again, attempted to throw of the yoke of their oppressors by force of arms, something that tended to go poorly, since wizards had wands and goblins…did not.

"…sorry, Natsumi," the Japanese boy said to his companion, somewhat sheepishly. "I guess I didn't sleep too well last night. Bad dreams."

Which was true enough, just…not at all the entire picture.

"Mm, I'm sorry, Matou-kun," the brunette murmured, as she helped him pack up his books. "Will you be going to the party night?"

Shinji smiled, a bit lopsidedly.

"I suppose. I did get something to wear just for the occasion."

Or rather, Miyuki-senpai had made him something to wear, and it would be almost criminal if he were to let her efforts go to waste.

"Mm. I look forward to seeing it," Natsumi chirped. "Perhaps you will see what I'm wearing as well."

"Perhaps?" Shinji echoed, somewhat confused. "Won't we be walking over to the party from the Hufflepuff Commons together?"

"Sorry, but I have something I need to take of before that," the girl told him, her smile just a bit impish. "Besides, girls take longer to get ready than boys do, and I wouldn't want you to have to wait. Use the time to take a nap instead. You seem like you could use the sleep."

"Well…that's true," the boy admitted, with a sigh. "I'll see you there, then?"

But his friend's reply was not quite so straightforward.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

As it turned out, Natsumi's words were on point. He _did_ feel much more alive and ready to take on the world after a nap – though to be sure, the hot shower, and the wondrous texture of the new formalwear that Miyuki-senpai had made for him just that morning helped. Why, wearing the new outfit, he almost didn't recognize himself.

He cut a rather dashing figure, if he did say so himself.

Despite that, however, few paid him much attention as he walked over to the room set aside for the party, mostly because the majority of his classmates were enjoying the Halloween Feast in the Great Hall and thus not around to see him.

' _Bit of a pity. Would have been nice to show off.'_

On arriving at the door, an older student he didn't recognize, dressed in rust-red robes, checked his name against a list, and handed him a black domino mask, instructing him to tap it against his outermost garment, and then put it on. The boy did so, finding that it shifted into a shimmering silver that matched his robes and hat, which, when he put it on fit him perfectly, as if it had been made for him.

He was waved inside after that, and, emboldened by the anonymity of the mask, put an bit of an extra swagger in his step.

Inside…

' _It's like a different world…'_

Where Hogwarts was a place of cold stone, the room Slughorn had chosen for the party was quite different in nature, with rich wooden panels covering the walls and floor, flickering candles floating in the air above them, a roaring fireplace with a very comfortable set of couches nearby, several large tables laden with all manner of exotic foods, many, many masked figures, and—

' _What is that.'_

—was that _a body?!_

"I see. O-our final g-guest has arrived," a familiar voice intoned, as a door opened on the side of the room, with none other than Quirinus Quirrell emerging, _also_ dressed in rust-red robes - like the person at the door. "Come, all of you, to me."

The crowd inside shuffled over to the Defense Professor, wondering what exactly was going on here – and why the man was there.

"W-what's going on, Professor?" a raven-haired girl about his height asked. "Where's Professor Slughorn?"

"Ah… _that,"_ the man replied, making a complicated expression as he glanced over at the body on the floor in the corner of the room. He led them over towards it, with gasps and mutters rising as the students noted the presence of the corpse – the corpse of somewhat corpulent man, with his face half melted and his lips, teeth and eyes a solid black.

 _'What on earth...?'_

"P-p-professor Slughorn is d-dead. He was p-poisoned," the Defense Professor stuttered, giving off an impression completely at odds with the man's usually confident manner. "P-poisoned by s-someone in this v-very room! The door has been barred. No one will enter or leave until the killer is caught. As Defense Professor, I-I am serving as C-Chief Inspector for the investigation. And so, I make you an offer. Help us. Assist our inve...investigation by identifying the true culprit, and one of you will obtain a prize beyond imagination. Professor Slughorn's last creation – a vial of _Felix Felicis_."

The man shook his head slowly, as he regarded each and every one of the masked figures in the room.

"B-but do not waste Law Enforcement's time. If you falsely accuse another, you will be...f-forfeit your chance at glory. But if you choose rightly..." he held up a vial of what looked like shimmering liquid gold, upon which all eyes came to rest. "B-be careful. T-the p-poisoner will do whatever it takes to keep from being caught. And if you are careless, you m-may become the n-next victim." The man smiled for only a moment, before shaking his head. "Good luck."

With that, he dismissed them, leaving the students to their own devices – some obviously moving away from the body, some looking at it with morbid curiosity, and some not sure what to think.

' _What…I thought this was going to be a party.'_

But instead someone was dead? What was this?

Shinji joined some of the others in wandering away from the corpse, finding it uncomfortable to look at it for too long.

' _What's going on in this castle?'_ he asked himself, clenching his fist – and finding that his fingers were wrapped around something odd.

When he made to look, he saw that there was a piece of paper crumpled in his hand, which he unfolded, finding the word "Alchemist" written across it in the neat hand, along with a series of numbers, with a mysterious vial filled with a clear, odorless liquid, hidden in its groove.

He turned, putting his back between the vial and the room, as he touched it, bringing it up to his eyes. The moment his skin made contact with the glass, a single word appeared, lingering just long enough for the boy to sure it wasn't his imagination before vanishing once more.

That word was **Antidote.**

' _Huh. That's kind of weird,'_ Shinji thought, deciding to pocket the vial for later. Perhaps someone was helping him out? Or Quirrell had supplied students with some kind of general antidote in case someone had tampered with the food or drink? _'I can't worry about that too much though. As it is, I have no chance of solving this on my own, so I may as well see if I can find Natsumi or Miyuki-senpai.'_

With any luck, they'd be able to figure out the identity of the killer together.

' _But…well…everyone is wearing a mask…'_

And with so many students swirling around in rather formal garments of cuts and colors he'd not seen the like of before, Shinji thought he might have a bit of trouble finding them, especially if they weren't standing together.

' _After all, I don't know what they're wearing. Oh well, I'll have to prioritize…I guess, Miyuki-senpai first?'_

As he made his way through the room, he took note of a few people who he thought might _possibly_ be Miyuki-senpai, though he wasn't sure if any of them _was_ her.

After all, the older Hufflepuff had mentioned that human transfiguration was quite possible, if difficult if one was not an advanced practitioner, and failing that, there were always things like the Aging potion, a most powerful elixir which could cause the drinker to temporarily become older, or Polyjuice, which could let a person become someone else for a time.

' _Hm, of the four…'_

One was a girl with a copper mask that concealed everything but her mouth and her long raven hair, wearing in a form-fitting dress of silver and midnight blue. She definitely had Miyuki's poise and sense of serene grace, though she was also rather more developed than he remembered _senpai_ being – and he was ashamed to admit it, but he _had_ paid rather close attention to what she looked like during their sessions in the greenhouse.

Another was a girl slightly taller than Miyuki-senpai, wearing full mask, cloak, and dress of black cloth that hid her hair and figure completely, though her voice – which he heard in passing – sounded a bit familiar.

One was a raven-haired girl talking with one with reddish blonde hair, though she seemed a bit short to be Miyuki, and her posture wasn't quite right.

' _No, rather than not right, it definitely feels like someone else. Even from behind, whoever it is looks nervous…'_

Miyuki-senpai never really seemed nervous – not to him, anyway, so that couldn't be here.

And then there was a girl with flowing black hair, wearing a blue domino mask, and something like a _qi pao,_ speaking animatedly with a certain dusky-skinned girl with purple hair in a dress of pure white, and a bone white mask that looked almost like a skullto match.

' _Well, Sokaris at least is instantly recognizable.'_

After all, no one had the Ravenclaw's sort of severe beauty, sense of unflappability, or hair quite that luxurious – or that color, really.

 _'Well, if there's a mystery to be solved, I can't imagine anyone who might be better suited at solving it than Sokaris. Unless she's the murderer of course, in which none of us would ever solve it – though hm, how_ would _I be able to tell if she were sabotaging things?'_

He wouldn't.

Speaking of which…since this was a masquerade, what was the etiquette here? Was he expected to give his real name? Or...perhaps...he could pretend to be someone else?

' _You know, an alias might be safer. Especially if there's a killer about.'_

But what would make a good alias?

' _Sherlock Holmes?'_

No. That was just asking for attention – and for someone to conveniently get rid of him.

' _James Moriarty?'_

No. Everyone would assume he was a criminal mastermind, leading to accusations being thrown his way, which he didn't really want to deal with, even if he wasn't the killer. Investigations had a life of their own, and if he got bogged down under enough public pressure, who knew what might happen – especially since he knew his emotional instability had a thaumaturgical cause.

' _I can't – I won't – let_ that _break loose. Not here.'_

Perhaps he could call himself Ishmael, after the narrator of _Moby Dick_ , which he had been discussing with Nigel?

' _I think…I'll go with Kōichi Zenigata.'_

A somewhat obscure name, to be sure, though it made sense in the situation, given that Zenigata was the archrival of the notorious criminal Arsene Lupin III – at least in the manga he remembered fondly from his childhood. He didn't _think_ anyone else at Hogwarts was named Zenigata either, so he imagined he'd be able to fool people easily enough.

' _Who to approach, then…?'_

There was Sokaris, of course, but…

' _Huh? Is that Natsumi?'_

His eyes caught sight of a twin-tailed brunette kneeling by the corpse of Professor Slughorn, about his size, dressed in a simple black dress that looked almost like a kimono, albeit with simple copper lines running along it, and matching black and copper half-mask, with what was visible of her skin painted a stark white, save for her lips, which were a deep cherry red.

' _She looks like a_ maiko. _'_ An apprentice _geisha_ , in other words. Very – very, eye-catching, and not something he'd expect of someone who wasn't Japanese. Much bolder than he'd imagined her being, as well. _'And her expression…'_

Natsumi – if that was here – seemed as though she'd seen something odd, and Shinji figured that perhaps he'd come along and keep her out of trouble.

Thus resolved, the boy decided to approach her, gambling on the notion that it might be his friend, making his way slowly through the crowd until he reached the area around the body, an area nearly devoid of partygoers.

The girl rose at the sound of approaching footsteps and turned towards him, the color of her eyes hidden by the shadows of the mask.

"Good evening," the boy greeted, tipping his hat to her with a flourish as he bowed low, in the manner of a courtier of old.

"And to you," the girl replied at she curtsied. "Do I know you?"

"Should you not?" Shinji asked with exaggerated shock. "After all, the name of Kōichi Zenigata should be known even in this distant land, should it not, Miss...?"

"Lockhart," the brunette with the painted face supplied after a moment. " _Aeris_ Lockhart."

She extended her hand to him, and Shinji, emboldened by the mask he wore and remembering every western fantasy novel he'd ever read, took her hand and kissed it.

"Charmed," he said with a roguish grin, wanting to see – if it was Natsumi – her blush a bit.

But the brunette only smiled slightly and withdrew her hand.

"Likewise," she answered simply enough. "Though I suppose you wish to know what I have seen, monsieur, when I was standing over the Professor's remains? I can't imagine why else you would force yourself to wander to this dreary corner, with so little to recommend it."

"Ah, but it can hardly be so dreary when it has you and your lovely smile, something any boy would long to see," the boy quipped, with the other smirking for a moment.

"Perhaps not so dreary then," she said playfully, "though you _were_ curious, yes?"

"...admittedly."

"If you must know, I was just thinking that such an obvious poison, one that blackens the teeth and lips, was strange for a killer to use, when there are so many ways one could kill a man without leaving a trace," the brunette remarked, her words causing Shinji to take a step back in surprise.

"Come again?"

"It is almost like someone was trying to hide some other cause of death, what that left the eyes black and the face half-melted. Poison is a convenient explanation, yes, but…there should be more signs. Blood, perhaps. Or some sign of thrashing about. Not clothing that seems so…unruffled."

"Do you usually spend much time thinking about how to get away with killing a man, Miss Lockhart?" the boy inquired, as these weren't words he'd ever expected out of Natsumi's mouth. _'Did I…did I pick the wrong person?'_

"No more than most girls," she replied coyly. "Does that surprise you, Mister Zenigata?"

"...of course not," Shinji answered after a beat. "After all, I certainly know how dangerous a beautiful woman can be."

"That would make you the exception to the rule," the girl remarked with a trace of a smile. "Shall we go and speak with some others? On the off chance that this isn't a test to make us distrust one another, and there truly _is_ a murderer about?"

"A splendid idea," the boy conceded, definitely thinking that it would be safer to have someone else with him than just this…dangerous, sultry girl, who was like…like a Lupin to his Zenigata, a Moriarty to his Holmes –

 _'...wait, I'm not already thinking that Miss Lockhart is the criminal here, am I? I mean, she_ is _suspicious, but...that would be too obvious, wouldn't it? Hmm...'_

"Something on your mind?" the half-masked brunette in question inquired with a lazy half-smile, the curve of which was accentuated in crimson against her white-painted visage.

"No. Not really," Shinji replied mildly, thinking he'd try to play things cool.

"Except that you think I am the killer, don't you, after my comments earlier?"

"Err...no, not at all!" the boy from the east lied, finding it unnerving how easily the girl was reading him, despite his domino mask. He glanced about the room again for someone he was sure he knew, and finding the purple-haired figure of Sokaris, breathed a sigh of relief. "Anyway, I think we should approach those two next." He gestured to where the dusky-skinned Ravenclaw stood, still speaking with her raven-haired companion. "Safety in numbers, right?"

"Unless one of them is the killer, right?" 'Miss Lockhart' – for he had no better name to call her at this point – shot back, with Shinji wincing as he acknowledged that she had a point. Still, if _she_ was the killer, Sokaris would no doubt figure it out, wouldn't she? "Still, we may as well. One of them may also have a clue we need, eh, Mister Zenigata?"

"Yes, indeed," Shinji readily agreed.

"Good. Now, you _will_ be a gentleman and escort me properly, yes?" the girl asked of him, looking at him – no, at his arm – expectantly.

"Ah, y-yes. Of course," Shinji managed, offering her the crook of his arm, with the girl drawing close to him and resting one of her delicate hands on his upper arm, her touch making his heart beat fiercely in his chest.

A part of him wondered if Miyuki-senpai was watching what he was doing from somewhere in the room and laughing at him for not being able to pick her out of the crowd or was perhaps disappointed at how he'd fallen into this other girl's pace so easily.

But perhaps he should have wondered if he was drawing too much attention, given that as the duo began walking towards the pair they were interested in speaking with, Shinji noted a number of people glance in their direction – including the dusky-skinned Ravenclaw who was his current quarry, who not only looked over in their direction, but seemed to give him a slight nod, as bidding him to approach.

 _'...no way. She can't tell it's me in these robes, can she?'_ He'd never worn their like before, after all, since senpai had just made them for him this afternoon. _'Unless...my hair?'_

Hair so black it seemed blue in any sort of light, after all, was admittedly somewhat unnatural, though not quite as unusual as her own.

Not that the boy could spare much time or brain power to muse upon these things further, as he and his companion crossed the distance, until they were standing before the Ravenclaw and _her_ companion. Shinji waited for 'Miss Lockhart' to release him – only…she never did, with the girl who had to be Sokaris eyeing where the brunette's hand was resting in the crook of his elbow, though whatever expression she wore was hidden behind her bone-white mask.

"Good evening," Shinji began, looking first at Sokaris and then at the girl beside her.

"And good evening to you," the raven-haired girl next to Sokaris said hesitantly, as her eyes took in his form and visage. She didn't seem like Miyuki-senpai, though her voice was familiar for some reason. "Do I know you?"

"Should you not? After all, I am Kōichi Zenigata, the great Alchemist," the boy from the east joked, his lips pulling up into something like a smirk as he recalled the title on the card he'd been given. And since he was masked, it wasn't as if anyone knew who—

"An Alchemist?" Sokaris inquired softly, though her tone wasn't as much mild as calm – like the calm that warned of an oncoming storm. "No, I think not. An Inspector, perhaps."

"Oho!" Shinji's eyes widened behind his mask as the most unlikely person he could think of seemed to understand his reference. _'How did she...?'_ he thought, wondering where in the world the Ravenclaw might have come across a copy of Lupin III, before shrugging in his mind. Sokaris was full of mysteries, after all. Finding that she apparently knew enough about a certain infamous manga series to recognize the alias he was using for the night was admittedly a bit of a shock, but... _'Then again, maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe she's just saying I can't possibly be an alchemist.' "_ What makes you so sure, Miss...?"

"...Atlasia," Sokaris supplied after a moment, her tone very dry indeed. "Eltnam Atlasia."

At the sound of the name that issued from the girl's lips, Shinji staggered, the breath driven from him as if he'd been struck bodily.

The only reason he didn't collapse on the spot – literally floored – due to Sokaris' declaration was that _Miss Lockhart_ had kept him steady.

' _Atlasia?! As in the title given to the Director of Atlas Academy, one of the Three Great Branches of the Association?!'_

That name…how did she know it? It couldn't be that…that…

 _'No. There's no way that could be true,'_ the boy reasoned. 'It's a masquerade party, _where no one says who they really are. Maybe, since she knows a bit of Alchemy, she came across the name and thought it would be nice to pretend to be someone related to_ that side _of the world tonight? Yes, that must be it.'_

The alternative – that a Director-level member of Atlas might be standing before him now, was both absurd and terrifying, given just what monsters Directors were said to be.

"Are you alright, Inspector?" Miss Lockhart asked from beside him, her tone both playful and worried at once. "I rather thought someone of your position should be more...resilient to the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. That an Inspector shouldn't be living in fear of some name."

"Oh, I'm..." Shinji laughed nervously. "I'm not afraid."

"You nearly fell over just now," the brunette pointed out.

"An…an utter coincidence, I assure you," the boy told his companion, as she glanced away, clearly disbelieving. "I simply ah...swooned?"

"Oh? Swooned is it?" the girl inquired, her voice soft – and her face somewhat closer to his than propriety might normally allow. "Is Miss Atlasia that much prettier than I, that you did not do the same around me?"

"What?!" Shinji blurted out, what was visible of his face going completely red as he took a step back. "Yes. I mean, no, I mean..." the boy rambled, trying in vain to fix his mistakes, though he was becoming increasingly certain that he wouldn't be able to.

Miss Lockhart, if that was truly her name, laughed prettily at how flustered the boy had become over a few words.

"I am only teasing you, _Inspector_ ," the brunette murmured, with Shinji feeling pleased somehow, as her fingers all but caressed his upper arm. "That _is_ your title, yes? Since reacted so when Miss Atlasia addressed you by it."

"...it's true, though it is hardly as official as that of the Chief Inspector," the boy quipped, glancing over at the man, who was now speaking with a chestnut haired girl wearing an outfit all in red, with a rapier at her waist. _'Well, that must be Lady Gainsborough, at least...but who is everyone else?'_ Speaking of which...

"Ah, where are my manners? Miss Atlasia, my companion, Miss Aeris Lockhart," Shinji supplied somewhat tardily, with the girl beside him releasing his elbow momentarily to curtsy. "Miss Lockhart, the talented Miss Atlasia."

"Lockhart? As in the adventurer?" the raven-haired girl spoke up, perking up as Shinji's companion was introduced. "I do love his books! His adventures are always so grand, so different from anything in our ordinary lives. I thought about starting a book club, but even in Ravenclaw, that's a bit..."

"Ravenclaw is it?" the brunette inquired mildly. "And which particular name might you hold among the Eagles who prize wisdom?"

"Oh – that's right," the raven-haired girl murmured, as if realizing she hadn't yet introduced herself. "I'm sorry. My name is Ch—uh, Cassandra. Cassandra...Chen."

 _'...Cassandra Chen?'_ Shinji repeated in his head, somewhat skeptical of the claim. After all, he knew no Cassandras, and he was pretty sure she'd begun to say... _'Oh. It's Cho Chang. The one who said those things about Miyuki-senpai...and who senpai doesn't really like.'_ He barely managed to hide a grimace, as he hoped – he really, really hoped – that the older girl wouldn't hold this conversation against him if she saw him and recognized who he was speaking to. _'No. It should be ok. Only Sokaris is really recognizable in this group.'_

"A pleasure, Miss Chen," Shinji commented, playing to his image of a gentleman by taking her hand – which she hadn't _quite_ extended – and kissing it lightly. It wouldn't do for him to let on that he knew her identity, after all, and it _was_ a bit cute how she blushed so prettily, as if this sort of greeting wasn't something that happened to her often. "I suppose you and Miss Atlasia were wondering why we came over to you tonight?"

"Because you believe one of us can assist you in solving tonight's...mystery?" Sokaris inquired, causing the boy to deflate, as she'd pre-empted the entire monologue he'd had planned.

"...well, yes," the boy grumbled, _not at all_ annoyed at losing his chance to grandstand a bit. "I don't suppose you've seen anything...strange this evening? Perhaps something out of place in the room, or from talking with others?"

"Only that the Chief Inspector is using his actual name, on a night when so many are borrowing identities not their own," Sokaris commented indifferently. "And that not all masks are so easily donned as the one you wear. But that is all I will offer at this time."

Frankly Shinji didn't think that was much help, since of course an investigator would have to use his proper name and title, as he would have no authority otherwise. Names had power, after all, even in the non-magical sense.

"...and you, Miss Chen?"

"To be honest, I...wasn't actually paying attention," the girl who knew to be Cho Chang admitted. "I was simply...caught up in speaking with Miss Atlasia about her...associate, who is not with us this evening."

Was that a blush he saw on the girl's cheeks? It _was._

Which just made him curious about who this…associate of Sokaris' was, if he could bring a blush to an upperclassman's face.

"Ah, I see...well, thank you for that," Shinji said with a bow and a flourish. "Now, if you will excuse me, ladies, there are other people to question before the night is through, I think." He glanced over at his companion. "Unless you had more to ask, Miss Lockhart?"

"No. Let's move on," the half-masked girl with the painted face replied with something like a smile upon her lips. "Who next?"

"Well…"

Looking about, Shinji tried to identify someone who might be interesting to talk to - someone who might have information about the case. Not that he expected anyone to simply give up information for nothing, but with how things stood right now, he didn't think he was any closer to finding out who the culprit was.

 _'I'd thought for sure that Sokaris would have something useful to tell me,'_ the boy from the east mused silently. _'But she only started talking about masks that were hard to take off...'_

He didn't see how that would help him, since he already knew the 'killer' was somewhere in the room, where everyone was going out of their way to hide who they were – even him.

 _'Should I keep looking for Miyuki-senpai?'_ he wondered. He was certain that she would have some interesting way to look at the situation which would prove rather insightful, but... _'Then again, I don't really know who senpai is here.'_

He'd thought that maybe she would have been in conversation with Sokaris, but thinking back on it, she had said he would only see her in the event that he recognized her – which meant she probably wasn't going to go out of her way to approach him for whatever reason. And that she probably wouldn't be giving him any hints. _'And on a night like tonight, when everyone wears different clothes, different names, different faces, that makes things difficult...'_

He didn't know what senpai was wearing, what she would be acting like, what name she might use. For all he knew she'd taken Aging Potion and was the older, shapelier raven-haired girl with a copper mask he saw moving about the room, was the one who had hidden her face and figure completely or was someone else entirely.

' _I just don't know.'_

What he did know is that he could make mistakes, and on a night where there were people emboldened by the masks they wore, and with it, the assumption that no one could recognize them, such mistakes could be dangerous. Still, the temptation of anonymity was a powerful drug.

How much freedom that would offer, if one could go anywhere, do anything, without having to worry about the consequences or the reactions of others with prying eyes?

Quite a bit.

Perhaps enough that one might speak to someone who one wouldn't normally deign to.

 _'Though that doesn't explain why Cho Chang is only talking to Sokaris on a night like this,_ ' he thought to himself. Weren't they in the same house? Wouldn't it be easy for her to just approach Sokaris in the Common Room? Something didn't quite add up there...and now that he thought about it, the whole situation was a little suspicious.

And if he wanted someone to help him pick out suspicious characters, he needed someone with a good eye for detail, like...

 _'Aha!'_

Like the rapier-armed brunette with a half-mask of black and striking green eyes, wearing an elaborate ruffled gown of different shades of red, who just finished talking with the Chief Inspector. A brunette he was almost certain was Amber Noel of Gryffindor.

"How about _her_?" Shinji suggested to the erstwhile Miss Lockhart, as he nodded in the girl in red's direction. "She was just talking to Quirrell. Perhaps she has some clue to the case that the rest of us don't."

"An acceptable suggestion," his companion noted with some amusement. "Though, are you only choosing to speak with other girls on purpose, Inspector? One might think you'd give some more consideration to the girl on your arm," she added coyly, a sentence that made Shinji turn all sorts of interesting colors, though he didn't respond.

Together, they set off to intercept the rapier-wearing girl who had been making her way towards the punch bowl, only to pause and turn towards them as they approached.

"Good evening," the girl in red said by way of greeting. "Do I know you?"

"Kōichi Zenigata, at your service," Shinji replied gallantly, greeting her with a sweeping bow. He glanced to his side, noting that 'Miss Lockhart' was still attached to his arm. "And this is Miss Aeris Lockhart...my companion for the evening. _'And thorn in my side,'_ he wanted to say, but didn't, as he wasn't stupid. Having one brunette out for his blood was bad enough.

Best for his sanity that he didn't add another.

"I see," the brunette noted coolly, as she looked between them. "So, you found a partner, Inspector. I hope for your sake that she is better at stopping crimes than your namesake."

"Namesake, huh?" Shinji asked, eyes widening as he found himself surprised once more. After all, why would a young British noblewoman know of his alias. Or the character who had inspired it. "Do you...recognize it, perhaps?"

"Enough to know that you chose poorly," came the reply. "If you are anything like your namesake, in spite of your brilliance, your quarry will escape ninety-nine times out of a hundred."

 _'She_ does _know it!'_ Shinji realized, his eyes widening in shock. _'B-but how?'_

It wasn't as if manga or Japanese animation were exactly popular outside of the country. At least not yet, unless…

' _Maybe Natsumi shared hers with Amber?'_

Such a thing was unlikely, but it was the only explanation he could think of.

"Well, it appears you have me at a disadvantage," Shinji conceded, tipping his hat to her. "As you seem to know of me, but I know nothing of you, Miss...no, _Lady_...?"

"Skywalker," the figure in red supplied with a hint of amusement, as the delicate fingers of her hand came to rest on the hilt of her blade. "Katrielle Skywalker."

 _'Skywalker? Why does that sound so familiar?'_ he mused, though he couldn't come up with anything off the top of his head. Still, it wasn't as if was _important_ , so he shrugged mentally.

"A pleasure indeed, Lady Skywalker," Shinji murmured, taking her hand and kissing it as well, noting idly that the girl before him seemed to flush when his lips touched her skin, with perhaps a bit of trembling. _'Odd...Miss Lockhart didn't react like this.'_ Wouldn't a daughter of the nobility be used to this? Or had he remembered the etiquette improperly? After all, if he tried this on Tohsaka, he was pretty sure that she would simply punch him, and since he wasn't some sort of anime protagonist who was immune to female violence, he thought he should probably avoid that. "It is good to see someone else trying to unravel the details of tonight's mystery. You are tempted by the prize, I take it?"

"Admittedly so, inspector, though the prize itself is odd," the brunette in red commented, retracting her hand and resting her chin on it thoughtfully. "After all, why would the Chief Inspector have the right to give out one of Professor Slughorn's last creations? Under normal circumstances, wouldn't that be entered into evidence, maybe as a possible motive for the murder? Something the murderer desired, but could not escape with?"

"A very good point," Miss Lockhart remarked. "And hardly the only inconsistency tonight."

"Look...I'm sure it doesn't mean anything," Shinji protested. "There has to be some kind of reward for assisting the investigation, right? And since Professor Quirrell is leading the investigation, why not a potion that Professor Slughorn wouldn't miss? It's not as if the dead need brews."

"Even so, I find it suspicious," Lady Skywalker replied, her mask – her green-eyed mask, now that he looked more closely – hiding her expression. "Do you not, Miss Lockhart?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Speaking of the...Chief Inspector," Shinji interjected, with both of the girls turning to look at him curiously. "You spoke to him just now, yes?"

"Yes? And what of it?"

"Did he have anything interesting to say?" the boy wondered. "Any new clues or suggestions that might help us identify who the criminal is?"

"Only that the fact that a master potioneer had actually been poisoned successfully, suggested that the killer was a potioneer of no small ability – say, an alchemist," the girl in red supplied, with Shinji unable to keep from stiffening as he remembered the note in his pocket – on which had been scrawled a single word.

A word he'd called himself earlier tonight.

 ** _Alchemist._**

 _'Wait...did I…do something wrong?'_

Still, that was just a note. No one would take that seriously, since even if he was searched, no one would find any of the poison on him, just a vial of the...

 _'...of the antidote.'_

The boy's eyes widened as his insides grew cold from the magnitude of the revelation. He'd been played. Set up. Whoever had slipped him the vial hadn't been well-meaning at all, since why – and how – would someone have an antidote on hand for an unknown poison...unless they were the one who had brewed the self-same poison?

' _If I have it…and no one else does, does that mean…'_

"Is something wrong, Monsieur Zenigata?" Miss Lockhart inquired solicitously, overlaying his now cold hands with hers. "You seem like you've come face to face with something...unpleasant. Is my presence truly that distasteful?" She leaned close, her next words murmured quietly into his ear. " _Or is there something you're hiding?_ "

Shinji flinched at the query, almost leaping out of his skin as he pulled away from the dangerous girl by his side.

"W-what?! N-n-no, that's not it at all," the boy babbled, his eyes wide as his worst fears were realized. "You've got it all wrong. I'm not...I mean, you trust me, right?"

"Trust a boy behind a mask, who clearly is hiding something?" Lady Skywalker inquired, moving to cut off the boy's line of retreat. "Do I seem that foolish to you, Inspector?"

"N-no, not at all," Shinji denied, finding himself boxed in. How had things become like this? Only a short time ago, he'd thought that maybe with help, he could claim the prize. Yet now...

 _'If they find the antidote on me, I'm done for. It isn't proof, but it's damming all the same. And since I have that note in my pocket…'_

Quirrell had told Lady Skywalker and who knows who else that the killer was probably a great potioneer, or an alchemist, and he had paraphernalia on him suggesting that he might be one, whatever Sokaris might say to the contrary.

"You know, it's funny," Miss Lockhart observed, her tone almost mischievous. "Your mouth says one thing, but your body says something else entirely."

"I..."

There had to be some way out of this. Something Quirrell had said that would clear his name, or at least throw suspicion onto someone else – _anyone else,_ so long as it wasn't him.

"Was there…was there anything else the Chief Inspector said?" Shinji asked, his voice unnaturally high as he attempted to distract them, with the other two eyeing him strangely. "I mean, we should know the whole picture before we make any accusations, right?"

He was sweating now, unable to hide his nervousness.

' _Though maybe I never did manage to hide it. Maybe it was obvious from the beginning.'_

"Oh? And what is it that you think Professor Quirrell might have said?" Lady Skywalker asked.

Thinking quickly, the hapless boy seized on the first thing to come to mind. Namely that while yes, the way the evidence was presented made him look rather – no, pretty much painted him as being the murderer of poor Professor Slughorn, there had to be something else that might clear his name – or at least get people looking away enough that he might dump somewhere or plant it on someone else.

"He might have said something about the unusual circumstances that led to us all being called here tonight," Shinji suggested, glancing hither and fro nervously. "I mean, with so many people - and an event obviously planned - couldn't someone have tampered with the scene?"

At this point, he was speculating wildly, without any solid grounding, but he needed to throw off the suspicions of his companions if he wanted a chance to win that vial of Felix Felicis and _not_ get thrown into Azkaban, which he'd heard was a very unpleasant place.

To be fair, anywhere guarded by creatures known as _Dementors_ probably was _._

"Tampered with the scene?" Miss Lockhart repeated, as she circled him. "An interesting suggestion, even if you are only making it to try and deflect suspicion from yourself."

Lady Skywalker was not moving, though he noted out of the corner of her eye that her fingers were toying with the hilt of her rapier.

"Tell us then, how might the scene have been tampered with?" the red-clad brunette inquired solicitously.

"Uh..." Shinji thought, trying to recall what he'd seen of the body in the short time he'd been near it. "Maybe the body was moved."

"Which would prove what, exactly?"

"It wouldn't prove anything," Shinji admitted, "but it might be enough to obscure the real cause of death. I mean, and I'm not saying this is what happened, what if the murder took place somewhere else, by some other method?" He thought about the blackness around the corpse's mouth, the half-melted face, and how poison in such a situation was such a…convenient excuse. "What if, to throw off suspicion on him or herself, the real killer just used something harmless to dye the man's mouth black, after doing something to his face with a curse, just so at first glance, one would assume the cause was poisoning?" His eyes shone with a maddened light. "What if...what if it was the Defense Professor? Or say...a house elf? In the kitchen? With a candlestick?!"

Miss Lockhart blinked - or at least he thought she did because her head bobbed.

"What."

It was as if the boy she had spent the evening with had just said something so stupid she couldn't wrap her head around the words coming out of his mouth.

"I mean...it-it could have happened that way? Right?" the boy continued, desperate for an outcome other than the one he feared. "I mean, you believe me, right, Lady Skywalker?"

"Should I repeat my point about believing a boy wearing a mask, who clearly has something to hide?" the rapier-armed Lady Skywalker replied with a mild sense of amusement, something like a smirk playing over her lips. "And how foolish that would be?"

"Heh...would I really lie to two such beautiful young women?" the boy offered lamely, hoping that at the very least, she'd laugh, and maybe he would be out of immediate danger. "Especially ones who are so fiendishly clever and could see through any untruth?"

"Oh? Resorting to flattery now, are we, Mister Zenigata?" 'Miss Lockhart' commented, having recovered from her earlier shock. "As for your point, it is well known that a man will say anything to earn the favor of beautiful young women, as you put it. Though, does this mean you think we're both beautiful? Perhaps more than Miss Sokaris?"

Shinji felt his face blazing as hot as a miniature sun as the two brunettes looked closely at him, as if expecting him to answer such an embarrassing question.

"I...uh..."

"Oh? You don't, then?" Miss Lockhart questioned, her tone wry. "How d—"

"No! I mean, yes, I mean...you're beautiful, yes. You're both beautiful!" the boy exclaimed, feeling his entire body flush an interesting shade of red as he blurted this out.

In the wake of his declaration, silence hung in the air between the three, with them only looking at one another.

"Do you hear that, Lady Skywalker?" the half-masked brunette with the painted face inquired of the rapier-armed girl. "He thinks you're beautiful."

"And perhaps I would even believe it if he said it when he could see my face," the rapier-wielder replied. She paused for a moment, before adding, "And when he isn't hiding behind a mask."

"But, Lady Skywalker, isn't he _always_ hiding behind a mask?" Miss Lockhart inquired.

"Sometimes less than others," the rapier-wielding brunette commented wryly, as she glanced at him.

Shinji's blush only deepened as her words made him wonder what 'Lady Skywalker' knew about him – and of course, if indeed she was Amber Noel. If not, what might her face look like when not hidden by her green-eyed mask? Would she indeed be a great beauty? Or at least cute?

Before tonight, before donning the domino mask he'd been handed at the door, he'd never really told someone she was beautiful before. The closest he'd come was telling Miyuki-senpai that she was precious to him – anything more than that would have seemed like he was trying to confess or something absurd like that.

 _'And it would be absurd, as if I was Icarus flying too close to the sun...'_

Miyuki-senpai was kind, and beautiful and wise and...

 _'She is so many things that I could never be, and I could never really deserve.'_

Not as broken as he was.

"...you look sad, Mister Zenigata, as if you arrived at a most troubling realization," 'Miss Lockhart' leaned over and murmured his ear, her voice soft enough that only he could hear it, her breath hot against his skin. "Care to share your revelation?"

"I was just thinking of what a cruel world this was," the boy remarked with a bitter smile, giving voice to a thought he'd often had before. "And how even outside this room, we all wear masks, only ever showing people the pieces of ourselves we're not afraid of. The parts we're not ashamed of. We show people what we would like them to believe about ourselves, and hope if they see through our lies to the ugly truth, they won't run screaming into the night."

"Mister Zenigata, are you ashamed of what you are?" Miss Lockhart asked, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin and the back of his hand very…pleasantly, making the boy shiver.

"Well...I'm not _happy_ about it," Shinji admitted with a heavy sigh. It really was odd how freeing it was to wear a physical mask, to dispense with one set of falsehoods even as one donned another. With no one knowing who he was, talking a complete strange he would surely never see again…he didn't feel as if he had to hide much about who he was, even if… "I guess I just don't like thinking about myself all that much. I do it a lot, but...even I..." He closed his eyes. "It's hard, you know?"

"That much, I know well," Miss Lockhart told him, leaning forwards so her weight rested against him, her chest against his back, bit closer than propriety would allow. "There are many things even I am not happy about. But such is the lot of one who, despite their deepest wishes, and no matter how hard they work, can never become the heir of their family."

"Mm," Shinji agreed.

Yes. That was it exactly. This Miss Lockhart understood. She really…

' _Wait…what?!'_

The boy jerked away as his mind fully processed the last sentence his companion had said, his skin almost as pale as Miss Lockhart's – and without the aid of any sort of whitening makeup.

Unprepared for the boy to move so quickly, the girl in question let out a most undignified squawk as she nearly stumbled. She reached out, her hand seeking to use his sleeve to steady herself, but he was already out of reach.

"You..." Those words. Words which described his situation completely. How? Why? He backed away as much as he could, until he found himself backed against a corner, his expression becoming something twisted and haunted, his breaths coming faster and faster. Those words. How did she know? How did 'Miss Lockhart' know? _'What is this? No one should know. No one. Except senpai and Sokaris, and this can't be senpai, right? It - it...'_

" _ **It was him, Professor**_!" a voice declared, with the crowd parting with a murmur to reveal the girl who he knew to be Cho Chang pointing at him. "He's the one who called himself an alchemist, as if he was boasting about it!"

Shinji's stomach sank into a pit as he felt despair begin to overtake him.

' _No…'_

He hadn't had a chance to dispose of the vial.

If Quirrell came over and searched him, the professor would no doubt find it, and with it, any chance he had of escaping this situation would vanish.

' _This is bad. This is really, really bad…'_

Any minute now, the Defense Professor would come over, and Matou Shinji would be exposed as the murderer before the eyes of the world, with the boy losing his best chance to begin to repay senpai – or maybe Sokaris – with a good Christmas gift, which was the least he could do after everything they had done for him.

' _Well…and my freedom…'_

It figured, really.

The machinations of Quirinus Quirrell had instrumental in keeping him – and Phelan and Ernie – out of trouble, which he had been absurdly grateful for at the time. But it seemed that even that had been borrowed time, and now the world had come to set right the natural order of things.

' _How ironic, that the one to condemn me will be the man who saved me.'_

Quirinus Quirrell, the man who was even now, advancing upon him, looking for all the world like a blood-soaked specter in his rust-red robes, his wand outstretched to cover any movements Shinji might make.

At this rate, the man would be on him in seconds.

For a moment – for the briefest possible moment, Shinji considered running – his mind conjuring up the image of slipping past Quirrell, getting past the door – somehow, and getting to safety. But…then what? Even if the man didn't stun him or worse for trying to flee from the law, even if he managed to dispose of the vial, he'd have already damned himself in the eyes of everyone.

And given the gaps in his memory and his lack of an alibi before the party (since "I was taking a nap, and no, no one saw me" would not be accepted in any court – anywhere), it was highly likely he would be locked up for a murder he…was pretty sure he hadn't committed.

Thus, the mad thought perished as quickly as it had come into this world, only to be replaced with a distant, almost feverish hope.

 _'If I stay, try to argue my case, maybe I can get myself out of this. Somehow.'_

Yes. That might work. Even if Professor Quirrell had a way of twisting words so that the man never really lost an argument, finding all the holes and inconsistencies in one's logic, maybe a miracle could happen.

Well, maybe if one of the two girls who had been with him up to now were to help...

 _'Huh? Where'd they go?'_ the boy wondered, his thoughts coming to a halt as he realized both Miss Lockhart and Lady Skywalker had essentially disappeared, slipping away while the attention of the crowd was focused on him. _'No. They can't…do they think I'm guilty too?'_

It was true that he'd been acting very suspiciously, that he _did_ have something to hide. But even so, he'd hoped…

And then the figure of Quirinus Quirrell was standing before him, with the man regarding him with too-pale eyes.

"M-mister...Zenigata, is it?" the red-robed man questioned, his wand pointed at the middle of Shinji's chest. "You have heard the words of your accuser. You stand accused of the murder of Horace Slughorn this evening. How do you plead?"

"Not...not guilty!" the boy stammered, feeling his legs grow weak under the pressure of that intense stare.

"Not...not guilty?" the Professor repeated slowly, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear – making Shinji wonder in some unused portion of his mind if the man had cast something on his throat. "So, you admit to the crime of which you have been accused? Boasted of, even, by Miss Chen's recollection?"

"No! I...not guilty!" Shinji corrected hastily, wincing at how despair had taken root in his heart, how his fear was so powerful in this moment. He had to…he had to defend himself. To convince them he didn't do it. Somehow. "You…you have to believe me. I'm innocent!"

"...innocent, are you?" Quirrell echoed, with Shinji noting that the man's wand still pointed unwaveringly at his chest. "Then I'm sure you won't mind if we discuss the facts of the situation?"

"No. Of course. Whatever you want sir. Anything's fine," the boy said quickly, hoping that quick – enthusiastic – cooperation might be helpful here. "Why am I even being accused, anyway? Because I said I was an Alchemist, on an evening where no one is playing their true role?"

"Because given the circumstances of Professor Slughorn's death via poisoning, only an Alchemist, or someone else similarly skilled, could have done the deed," the man explained coolly. "And you, being young and foolish, boasted of this skill, as if to say _'I did it.'"_

"B-but that's all – being an alchemist isn't a crime! You can't just say I'm guilty because of that," Shinji reasoned, his mind racing furiously. "It's all…just a coincidence. You have no proof! And I have no motive!"

"No proof, you say?" the man echoed, reaching out his hand – as the glass vial – the damning piece of evidence Shinji had hoped to dispose of, came flying out of the boy's pockets and into the man's grasp. "Then what is this, Mister Zenigata?" the man inquired, his voice stern and hard as he dropped his stuttering and insecure act. "You carry a strange glass vial on your person. One that claims to be an... **'antidote**.' How very curious."

"S-so what?" Shinji asked defiantly. "It's just a vial. Anyone can own a potions vial. Th-that's hardly a crime, is it?"

"Perhaps not, but why would they bring such a thing to what they believed was a Halloween party?" Quirrell pressed, with Shinji feeling options close off all around him. "Particularly one that was an...antidote of all things." The man paused to let his words sink in, before continuing. "Tell me, Mister Zenigata, do you worry much about your classmates? Do you fear they will poison you?"

"...no, but..."

"And did you have reason to suspect that you would have a need for antidote this evening?"

"No, but—"

"Then why do you have such a vial?" the Chief Inspector demanded. "You can't answer that, can you, Mister Zenigata? Because you know that there is no good reason to have such a thing with you in this situation. Thus, given the facts at hand, I must sadly conclude that that you are—"

" _ **OBJECTION**_!" a voice cried out, with heads turning at the sound to find a red-clad figure standing on a hastily-cleared table, her outstretched finger pointing directly at the red-robed Inspector, whose face was a tableau of surprise, as he had not expected anyone to interrupt him so in the middle of his summation.

"Lady...Skywalker, was it?" the man questioned, once he'd composed himself again. "On what grounds do you object?"

"On the grounds that you are badgering the witness – that your evidence is the fruit of a poisonous vine, and that the events of this entire evening have been an utter farce!" the rapier-armed brunette declared, her green-eyed mask staring imperiously down at the crowd, as people began to mutter.

"A farce?" the Chief Inspector repeated gravely. "Miss Skywalker, a man – a well-respected Professor who once taught _me,_ in fact – lies dead, and this…Mister Zenigata is the chief suspect for the murder, given his statements this evening, his suspicious manner, and the vial discovered on his person. It may not be enough for a conviction – yet – but it _is_ enough to call for the Aurors, so kindly remove yourself from the table."

But the Professor's order was refused.

"I will not," the other declared imperiously, even as she maintained her pose. "Because Mister Zenigata is no murderer at all." Shinji felt his spirits – his hope that maybe he wouldn't be arrested this evening, seen as a criminal by the entire school – rise as the girl continued to speak. "He was _framed_."

"F-framed?" Quirrell echoed incredulously. "Of all the absurd...the vial he was holding proves otherwise!"

The man held the object in question up to the crowd, as if to show off the damning piece of evidence that he had discovered on the boy – evidence which connected Matou Shinji to the crime.

"It's funny you should bring up the vial," the other spoke, opening her hand – as the vial left from the grasp of the Chief Inspector, flying towards hers – only reverse direction in mid-air as the Defense Professor raised his hand, flying back towards him—

 _Whirr!_

—before whizzing over his head entirely, into the waiting hand of a shapely raven-haired girl wearing a form-fitting dress of silver and blue and a bronze mask engraved with azure lines, who was standing by the door.

"I don't know what it is that you seek to accomplish, Miss Skywalker, but it is a grave offense to interfere with a criminal investigation – especially by assaulting the lead investigator," the man said stiffly, before glancing behind him to note the identity of the other culprit. "As you should know full well, Miss Yuki."

 _'Miss...Yuki?'_ Shinji repeated inside his head. _'Wait that's...don't tell me senpai used such an obvious alias.'_

Hiding in plain sight, while dressed in colors of Ravenclaw no less.

"Indeed, though that is only true if you are truly investigating a crime," Miss Yuki commented, glancing down at the vial in her hands. "Otherwise it is grounds only for a detention at most, provided no harm was done."

"And, what you are claiming that no crime was committed?" Quirrell demanded. "After seeing the corpse with your own eyes? After now – holding the vial in your hands and examining it for yourself? Perhaps you believe the boy's guilt to be in question. So be it – believe as you will. But to deny the evidence of your senses—"

"A curious thing, this…evidence," Miss Yuki noted, her voice pitched just so to cut through the man's bluster. "Especially with how conveniently you were able to discover it. That someone should be carrying around such a vial at all, even if they were the murderer, nearly strains belief. After all, the deed was already done, and assuming this killer was assured of their success, why would the killer keep the antidote on him or her, instead of disposing of it, along with the poison?"

"Yes, it is a rather egregious error, but one that might be explained by his youth and inexperience," the Professor countered. "Simply because he is a skilled potioneer does not mean that he has much in the way of common sense!"

"A possibility, true, though if I may ask, how did you conclude he had a vial on him?"

"What…?"

"The summoning charm works with _specific_ objects, Professor," Miss Yuki explained for the benefit of the crowd. "You cannot simply say ' _Accio Evidence'_ and expect it to fly from a suspect's robes into your waiting hands. You must picture something in particular – like this vial. So how were you so certain that he had such a vial?"

"I did not _know_ , I suspected," the man declared, his eyes hard. "One develops a certain instinct after investigating many cases and witnessing the depredations of killers and dark wizards. They tend to make the same mistakes over and over. They are…predictable. So, what exactly are you suggesting, Miss Yuki?"

"What I am suggesting is that Miss Skywalker is correct – that this boy has been framed for a crime he did not commit," the raven-haired girl declared, as if daring someone to challenge her assertion.

Naturally, Quirrell was only too happy to do so.

"And yet from how he was acting – from how he acts now, this is not so," the Chief Inspector replied fearlessly, his smile a cold one indeed. "He knows his guilt. Look how he trembles. Look how he cannot meet my eye. And you try to defend him by saying that he was framed? This entire line of thinking is both spurious and preposterous. You cannot argue against material evidence with these half-cast speculations Miss Yuki, when a much easier explanation for why he was carrying the vial was that he possessed very little common sense. A great failing of many wizards, I find."

"Perhaps so," a third voice broke in – that of Miss Lockhart, who had gotten up another table, her arms crossed. "Though there is another plausible explanation, Professor. One that even _you_ may find compelling."

Quirrell's irritated expression was a sight to behold at that moment.

"This should be amusing," the man said coolly. "Say your piece, if you will, since it seems evident you three will not let me proceed until you do."

"Let me begin by laying out the problems with the situation as you have framed it," 'Miss Lockhart' spoke up, playing more for the crowd than for anyone else. "First – you allege that Professor Slughorn was killed by poisoning, yet the disfiguration of the face and body suggests another mode of death, if in fact, it is a body at all, given what the irregularities about it suggest."

"Second," Miss Yuki commented from her position by the door. "None of us came to this room until the time of the party, with Mister Zenigata being the last to arrive. If he truly confronted Professor Slughorn before any of us had come, only to later return to the scene of the crime – to enjoy the panic and confusion of his handiwork – then wouldn't he have changed? Surely what he is wearing now would not be the outfit the murder was committed in, as it would be difficult to avoid attention if there was anyone about at all." She paused, letting her point sink in. "In fact, the only person who was here prior to the rest of us – the one who claimed to have discovered the corpse, in fact – was _you_ , Professor."

"Which brings me to my last and final point," Lady Skywalker announced, drawing her rapier and pointing it at the Defense Professor with a dramatic flourish – a purely theatrical gesture, since he was all the way across the room. "You are not Quirinus Quirrell!"

The room went utterly still at this declaration, with people looking uneasily between the three girls who had spoken up and the Chief Inspector, who seemed bemused by their assertions.

"Miss Skywalker, even if I were prepared to overlook your outrageous claim that I am not who I say I am, I cannot overlook your transgression of drawing a weapon on an official performing an investigation—" he began, only for the girl to cut him off.

"Quirinus Quirrell was the Muggles Studies Professor at Hogwarts for several years," Lady Skywalker continued impetuously, as if the man had not spoken at all. "Because of that, he should be familiar with trends among Muggles, should he not? Especially pop culture? In fact, I remember him being familiar with that very franchise after I passed my challenge, saying something about how I was capable, but not a Jedi. And yet – _you_ did not show any strong reaction to my choice of name."

"...what does your choice of alias have anything to do with this, Miss Skywalker?" Quirrell inquired coolly. "Perhaps I did recognize it, but simply did not show a reaction out of respect for the masquerade."

"Then, Chief Inspector, which popular Muggle franchise is the name Skywalker from?" the girl in red countered. "Can you answer that for me?"

"Miss…Skywalker, this entire line of questioning..."

"Then for the record, Professor, are you refusing to answer?" the rapier-wielding brunette clarified, with some in the crowd muttering at this. "Is it because you won't, or because you _can't?"_

"Of all the – of course I can answer a question as simple as that!" the man sputtered.

"Then by all means, do so, Professor," she asked with a gimlet-eyed smile. "In fact, I'll even make it easy on you, since I'm sure the events of the evening – finding a colleague murdered like this – must have been very trying. _Star Trek_ or _Doctor Who_? From which one is my name drawn?"

A few moments passed while the man thought, before sighing and giving his response.

" _Doctor Who_ ," the man answered finally. Noting that Lady Skywalker seemed to relax, nodding to herself at that, Quirrell smiled slightly. "There? Are you satisfied?"

"I am," the red-clad brunette stated, drawing herself up regally, her expression a smile of utter triumph as she sheathed her rapier. "I am because that was a trick question. The true answer is _Star Wars,_ as Professor Quirrell – the _real_ Professor Quirrell – knows full well!"

"I – this –"

"I thought it was odd how on an evening like this, with all of us wearing masks that concealed our faces, you seemed so _relaxed_ after a crime had allegedly been committed. That you allowed the party to continue, even as you posed to us a challenge, offered a reward, as if this murder was – a game. But what convinced me that this entire affair has been a farce was the vial that you oh-so-conveniently discovered on Mister Zenigata – the vial _you knew was there because you planted it on him to begin with_."

"...this has gone beyond absurd now, Miss Skywalker. You cannot—"

"The face of the matter is that there was no murder tonight," the girl in red declared. "Yes, there was something like a body in the corner of the room, but under closer inspection, the cause of death did not hold up."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. Inspector, would you like to hear my theory on both who you really are and what really happened tonight?" the brunette questioned. "Because at this point, I know the answer to both."

"...do as you will, Miss Skywalker," the red-robed inspector allowed. "But remember that word have weight, and actions have consequences."

"I will, because the fact of the matter is that there was no murder tonight," Lady Skywalker declared. "Oh, you were somewhat convincing, preparing a body and 'evidence' to support this piece of dinner theatre, but neither hold up to close inspection."

"Faces are always difficult to transfigure properly," Miss Yuki pointed out helpfully. "A basic human form, not so difficult, but a face – much more difficult, which is why those who seek to disguise themselves as others tend to use a potion such as, oh…Polyjuice. So, you didn't bother trying to get the face quite right. You made a mannequin shaped somewhat like Professor Slughorn, dressed him in the Professor's clothes, and disfigured the face, to hide the fact that it was merely a lazily done transfiguration. Say, for example, how the eyes were only black spheres of glass and not really made of flesh..."

"Then, there was the matter of the setup of the evening," Lady Skywalker supplied. "This was to be Professor Slughorn's Halloween party, yes? With the good Professor known for his love of...talking to students and seeing their thoughts, as well as the high standards he holds his students to if they seek to earn a reward from him? It is most curious that even though Professor Slughorn was allegedly deceased, murdered in this very room, that what was presented to us could be seen as…as a challenge to any clever enough to look past the surface, and delve into the facts."

"Which brings us to why you are apparently not wearing a mask – yet allow everyone else to do so," Miss Lockhart inquired. "On the face of it, it seemed logical to assume that you wore no mask because you were not a guest and did not know the rules of the masquerade. But then, in the event of a murder, why would you not demand that we all reveal our identities – that we _all_ unmask, instead of simply observing us in our crafted personas? The truth is that you _are_ wearing a mask, though yours was chosen to win our trust and obedience, and that yours is not something of fabric or metal or ceramic, but flesh and magic – as befits a Master Potioneer using Polyjuice to borrow someone else's form."

"The truth is that Professor Slughorn was here all along, watching us. Mingling with us. Seeing how we reacted and how we thought when a prize was at stake – and when we were under the impression that a murder had truly occurred," the red-clad girl announced, her green-eyed mask looking down upon the Professor as she smirked. "Leaving a trail of inconsistencies to test us – to see if anyone would discern the truth. What gave it all away was the fact that he offered to us a prize that wasn't Galleons or something that the school or the State might provide – but a vial of _Felix Felicis_. In the event that a murder _had_ occurred, no professor – no competent investigator – would simply give a murder victim's possessions to someone else, especially when it might be needed as evidence. Perhaps as a motive." She laughed then, a sound clear and free and unrestrained, which made the long-forgotten Shinji's heart race at the joy of it. "Once I worked that out, and then confirmed you were not Quirinus Quirrell, it seemed obvious who you had to had to be," she summed up. "The allegedly murdered Professor Horace Slughorn, Potions Master of Hogwarts, the man responsible for this entire evening's events – who wished to see if we would be tricked, or if we would earn a treat!"

The Professor blinked as he listened to the allegations of the three girls who had so blatantly defied him – thrice defied him, in fact, going so far as to interrupt him, draw a weapon on him, assault him with _magic_.

What they said, what they claimed…

"You have a most wild imagination, and a bolder will than I would have expected, Ladies Skywalker and Lockhart," he allowed after a few moments. "I would say the same holds for you, Miss Yuki, save that I am _quite_ familiar with your character."

The man chuckled, turning to face them with wand in hand.

"Claiming these things, defying my authority, and banding together to make yourself be heard – staging a bit of theatre on such a solemn occasion," the Professor noted. "Reckless courage, cunning, baiting people into traps…it is enough to make an old man weep the state of today's youth. Except for one thing." Without a word, he summoned the vial of antidote from the hand of Miss Yuki, downing it before anyone could act. Moments later, the form of Quirinus Quirrell melted away, revealing a hale and hearty Professor Slughorn in robes that were now somewhat…overstuffed. "The fact that you are correct. And in spite of my protests and attempts to divert you, my arguments and rebuttals, you arrived at the truth, seeing through the inconsistencies of the case, even using Muggle culture and your knowledge of Professor Quirrell to reveal that I could not be who I claimed. Congratulations."

The very much alive Potions Master of Hogwarts nodded his head in acknowledgement as he withdrew a single vial full of golden liquid from his robes.

"This was indeed all a setup, as you say. A bit of a farce – but is this not what is expected on Halloween, when nothing is as it seems?" Professor Slughorn asked genially, speaking to the crowd. "Since Albus goes out of his way to make the Halloween Feast grander with each year, I need to have some kind of spectacle, and Quirinus was kind enough to suggest this idea to me." He smiled, very slightly. "I had no idea how it was going to turn out, as my parties have always been rather more informal. Less...dramatic and contrived. I wasn't convinced anyone would figure out the twist, and thought that at the evening's conclusion, I might reveal my little deception, while untransfiguring the so-called body back into the many fine samples of Honeydukes chocolate I used to make it for you to have something to take home with you. Yet…you and your colleagues surprised me, Miss Skywalker. Well done indeed."

He held out the vial, gesturing for the young woman in red to descend from her perch.

"As promised, one vial of _Felix Felicis_ \- a day's worth, though you are free to split it up as you wish," the man said grandly. "As I imagine you and your co-conspirators surely will! Come forward, Miss Skywalker. Claim your prize."

The red-clad figure did just that, hopping down from the table perch on the table and making her way to the front of the room where Slughorn stood.

He bowed, Miss Skywalker curtsied, and as they straightened, the man handed her the precious potion, one of the most valuable items at Hogwarts.

"Your prize for the evening. Use it well. As you are using the Mopsus you won from continually exceeding my expectations throughout the semester," he commented genially, a twinkle in his eye. "And as one of your colleagues, I suspect, is using that and Aging Potion."

The girl did not respond with words, just a nod and a secretive smile.

"My compliments to you all, Miss Skywalker. Perhaps the next time I set a challenge, it will take you somewhat longer, hm?" the man admitted with a wry smile, before turning to the crowd - some of which was quite shocked at what had transpired, some of which was baffled, some of which were genuinely impressed, and some of which were annoyed with themselves that _they_ hadn't seen through all of this and claimed the prize. "And now that our game has come to an end - please, enjoy the evening and the company of one another. There is food and drink aplenty, and much time left this Halloween night."

With that, he dismissed them, though not before – as promised, untransfiguring the body into a massive pile of premium quality Honeydukes chocolates, which he levitated and placed on the table Lady Skywalker had vacated.

In the wake of everything, Matou Shinji, still slumped against a wall, was forgotten, reeling from the revelations and shocks that had transpired. There had been no murder. _There had been no murder._ He hadn't even _questioned_ that there had been, so eager to claim the prize dangled before him that he'd fallen into a trap.

 _'No. That's not it. I_ was _the trap.'_

Because by the terms Slughorn had given, accusing the wrong person would lead to the accuser being disqualified from winning the prize, and if Slughorn – who had been posing as Quirrell – had gotten the entire room to agree on his guilt, then no one would have been eligible for it.

'… _yes, I can see where Professor Quirrell might have played a hand in crafting this scenario.'_

Which made him wonder just what the man was up to this Halloween, and whether the Defense Professor was up to something nefarious, perhaps involving the Philosopher's Stone.

'… _I doubt it. It would be too obvious if he just happened to be missing, wouldn't it?'_

Now that he was no longer in danger of being arrested and sent to prison – well, technically he'd never really been in danger, but it had felt that way – he supposed he might as well try and take Slughorn's advice about enjoying the evening, since he'd had more than enough shocks for one night.

' _But what to do?'_

The boy was still pondering that when Miss Lockhart seemed to materialize at his side.

"Since our mutual acquaintance seems to be swarmed by envious well-wishers, would you care to join me?" the twin-tailed girl asked, her red lips so very striking against her white-painted face as she held out a hand – and Shinji took it, using it to help him get to his feet.

"What did you have in mind?" He asked, somewhat suspiciously. He still didn't know who she was, but...maybe that didn't matter. At least for tonight.

"I thought we could sit by the fire and partake of the fine food and drink, Inspector," the girl suggested. "Or perhaps join the group on the couch speaking of odd things like Bags of Holding and Heward's Handy Haversacks?"

"Either sounds fine, so long as I don't get accused of murder again tonight."

"Mm, yes. Once an evening is enough for that, isn't it?" she asked, giving him a sly smile.

"Quite."


	15. Mudbloods and Commoners

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 14.** _Mudbloods and Commoners_

The Monday after Halloween, Matou Shinji found himself nervous beyond words as he stood beside Quirinus Quirrell, the Defense Professor of Hogwarts, on a stage that had been hastily constructed in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, as an unfamiliar man – apparently a famed adventurer and author – spoke of the legacy and meaning of the Order of Merlin, of how it was the highest honor of Wizarding Britain, and how, on this day, two more would be welcomed into its ranks.

' _Everyone's looking at me…'_ he thought, feeling the eyes of the audience glancing at him curiously, wondering what _he_ could have done to be up on that stage – or maybe thinking that his shimmering dress robes were a bit _too_ eye-catching for such a formal ceremony. _'Me…even though I don't deserve to be here…'_

When Professor Quirrell had first asked him to join him for an outing to the Ministry that was related to the Chamber Incident, Shinji had feared the worst: that he was to be charged with the death of Filch after all, with Quirrell going out of his way to bring Shinji in himself, so that the boy wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of being placed under arrest in front of his peers.

"No, that's not it," the man had reassured him. "Since you were the last person to see Argus alive, and one of the few people who cared if he lived or died, I thought it would be fitting if you could participate in a small ceremony to honor the man's life. Perhaps even say a few words."

"I…" Shinji had begun, only to trail off, clearly uncertain of what to do. It wasn't as if he had known the man, after all, and it felt… _wrong_ to attend the funeral of a man whose death he had wished for. "I'm not sure…"

"If it makes you feel better, you may invite someone to come with you for moral support," the man had allowed after noting the boy's unease. "But no more than that."

Seeing how the man was going out of his way to accommodate him, Shinji had agreed to Quirrell's request – which was why he was _here,_ feeling incredibly out of his depth as he stood before some of the most powerful movers and shakers of Magical Britain, waiting to accept an Order of Merlin, 3rd Class, on behalf of Argus Filch – the first and only Squib to be so honored in Britain's long history.

' _A small ceremony, the Professor said. Say a few words, the Professor said. I didn't know he meant…_ this.' The boy thought to himself. _'If I'd known what I was getting myself into…'_

Though, in retrospect, that might be why the Professor hadn't exactly been forthcoming with details, letting Shinji fill in the blanks himself.

' _I thought it was going to be a funeral.'_

But a funeral it was not, as Argus Filch, the late caretaker of Hogwarts, was long buried, and there were no pictures of him to be found for a memorial, as the Quirrell had informed him when they arrived.

And since it would have been somewhat…impolitic for Albus Dumbledore to be here (as in, people would once more begin to wonder why the man hadn't been there when the Chamber was opened, and why a member of the staff had died on his watch), the Headmaster and the Defense Professor had suggested that Matou Shinji, the earnest first-year Hufflepuff who had tried so hard to save his life, should accept the honor in Filch's place, as a nod to all the man had done for the students of the school over his long years of service.

Not that this wasn't an opportunity of its own, as he would get the chance to meet the Minister, the head of Hogwarts' Board of Governors, and any number of other notables, _and_ have his face featured in the paper – a copy of which he thought he could send home, to show his _grandfather_ and his _sister_ that he wasn't so pathetic after all.

' _And this place is...nicer than Hogwarts, I have to say…'_

The castle in which the school was housed had a certain medieval charm, it was true, but this place reeked of luxury and power. The floor and walls were not wrought of rough stone, but highly polished wood; the peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that continually moving and changing like the night sky; and at the very center of the room was a gleaming golden fountain, with a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf all fawning over a witch and wizard.

' _They place themselves at the center of the world, seeing themselves as lords of the earth and sky, of all the beasts upon it and the mysteries it hides,'_ Shinji observed, finding the symbolism of the Atrium quite shocking in how blatant it was – though he supposed it was only so to someone who hadn't grown up steeped in its culture. _'And if they see themselves as above other magical creatures, how do they see those without magic?'_

Squibs, like Argus Filch, for example, or those they called Muggle or Mudblood?

He didn't know for sure, but he suspected that their thoughts weren't exactly flattering.

' _I'll see what Lady Gainsborough thinks of all this, after the ceremony is over,'_ he thought to himself, looking out into the crowd and meeting the eyes of his coppery-haired guest, who seemed to be rather curious about the surroundings herself.

Much as he'd hoped she would be, though at the time, he'd invited her mostly because he thought it might be good to better get to know Phelan's twin, since she _had_ warned him of her brother's tenency to get into trouble.

That…and he felt drawn to her after connecting her identity to that of the "Miss Lockhart" who had outwitted him at the Masquerade. The same Miss Lockhart who had made a comment about never becoming the heir of her family (hence her moniker of _Aeris_ that evening, as it sounded much like _heiress_ ), no matter how hard she worked – a situation he was quite intimately familiar with.

He'd thought about inviting Miyuki- _senpai,_ given that her presence always reassured him, but he didn't want her to think he couldn't function without her. Sokaris, who he'd also considered, wasn't really the type to offer moral support most of the time – nor did he think she would have been interested in some memorial. And well, since this business with Filch was something he was responsible for, he didn't want to get Natsumi involved in this mess.

' _Besides, if Amber is used to dealing with Phelan's nonsense by now.'_ And with the situation having turned out quite different from his expectations, he suspected Lady Gainsborough might have been the best choice after all, given who and what she was.

As long as she wasn't wearing a mask, at any rate.

* * *

Events proceeded, with the man finishing his speech, Quirrell stepping forward as a medal was placed around his neck – giving a short talk about the discovery of the Chamber, and how he hoped that those who studied it learned from the mistakes of the past, lest they find them echoing on into the future – and then Shinji himself accepting the boxed medallion that would have gone to Filch.

"I'm the least qualified person to speak about Mr. Filch, as I didn't know him well, but I do know that without him giving his life, two of my friends would have died," Shinji said of the caretaker, when asked if he had any words about him. "He was a brave man, who, even though he lacked magic, put everything he had into doing he felt was right."

The boy's words, unpracticed and unpolished as they were, were nevertheless, true from a certain point of view.

And what's more, they struck a chord with some of those listening – especially those with children, who felt a surge of admiration for a _Squib_ who sacrificed himself for the sake of two wizarding children could live.

For many, it was the first time in their lives they deigned to acknowledge a Squib as worthy of anything other than disdain or indifference, that they accepted that the lives of Squibs and others without magic could be of some consequence, even if they only did so grudgingly.

Shinji, being an eleven-year-old boy, didn't know – or care really – how pivotal a role his words and presence played in that, or that he had been part of the beginning of such a change at all, as the only thing on his mind was trying not to make a fool of himself in front of all these people.

And he thought he did a reasonably good job of _that_.

Maybe.

So, it seemed at the reception following the ceremony, at least, when Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, with Lucius Malfoy, head of Hogwarts' Board of Governors by his side, came up to Shinji and his guest.

"I heard from Quirinus that you were there when Argus died, and you tried your very best to save him, my boy," the Minister said somberly, as he carried his hat under his arm. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze. "It was a brave thing you did, at your age. And brave words you said today. I am glad to see honor being brought to the house of Hufflepuff. My house, you know."

"I didn't know, but thank you, sir," Shinji replied with a nod, though he couldn't quite meet the man's eyes. Hearing people praise him for...what amounted to a lie felt very, very strange – made him feel slimy and tangled inside. _'How…how can people believe this? Isn't it obvious that it's all a big lie?'_ And yet they believed all the same, with Quirrell being the man of the hour for the grand discovery of the Chamber - the secret refuge of Salazar Slytherin himself, and Argus Filch given glory in death where he had received only scorn and derision in life. "I...to be honest sir, I don't think I deserve any praise. I couldn't…I couldn't save Mister Filch, and—"

"You should not blame yourself for what you failed to do," Lucius Malfoy interjected coolly. "I doubt that even the great Albus Dumbledore could have done anything about it. Not that he seemed to have the wisdom to be present when a professor attempted to open something as old and well-protected as the Chamber must have been. Though I suppose perhaps Quirinus simply did not think to ask, as I doubt a former Muggle Studies professor could truly understand the power of the Dark Arts, or its creations."

"I'm sure Professor Quirrell understands what he teaches very well," Shinji said in Quirrell's defense. The man had done much for him, and the boy from the east wouldn't let him be slandered in front of him. "As for Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure there were reasons he could not be present. He's a busy man, with an entire school to run, and sometimes, even if you take every precaution, things happen."

"Perhaps," Luicius acknowledged with a slight nod. "However, as the Head of the Board of Governors, it is nonetheless our responsibility to look into the incident and see if these is any indication that the headmaster may have been negligent, given that a death has occurred at Hogwarts," the man continued. "The last time _that_ happened was the last time the Chamber was opened, with the man who was said to be behind it spared the worst because Dumbledore backed him."

"And because the evidence was not…conclusive," Fudge interjected, to which Lucius Malfoy grunted. "Suggestive, yes, but there was nothing placing him at the scene, and well…he was a half giant, while Slytherin was a believer in blood purity. Given that it seems the creature which killed Miss Warren was a _basilisk_ of all things, not whatever beast the…putative culprit had been raising, it is possible that Dumbledore and Dippet fingered the wrong man."

"What, are you suggesting reparations, Minister?" Lucius asked blandly.

"No. Merely that perhaps, in light of the new evidence, we should re-visit the investigation. Who knows, perhaps Mister Hagrid would enjoy having a chance to complete his Hogwarts education?" the Minister commented, glancing at his blond colleague. "He would have to continue where he left off, of course, as a third-year, and at least pass his OWLs if he wanted to use magic. You would have no objections to this, right, Lucius?"

"I suppose not," the Malfoy patriarch allowed. "After all, it is hardly stranger than for all of us to be gathered here in honor of…." He paused. "A man not gifted with magic," he said after a moment, in an attempt to be diplomatic.

"Gifted or not, Mister Filch was a brave man to do what he did," Amber commented from beside Shinji, with Lucius' eyes turning to the girl. "After all, it would take bravery to live as someone who could not use magic in a world of magicians."

"Wizards, girl," Lucius corrected, his expression severe at her slip of the tongue. "Or witches. _Not_ magicians. _That_ is…a Muggle term."

"I see. I will remember that for the future," Amber, curtseying in the ruffled gown she wore. "If I may, you are the father of Draco Malfoy, are you not?"

"I am. What of it?"

"I see where your son learned his impeccable manners," the girl noted with a smile, with the tall blond man looking rather pleased by what he sees as a compliment.

"Indeed?" he questioned. "You must know my son well, then. How...unusual for one of your...background," Lucius noted his curiosity piqued. "Tell me, what is your name?"

Amber glanced expectantly at Shinji, who, as the one who had invited her to the event, had the duty – and privilege, some might say – of introducing her to those who asked. The boy, understanding, nodded and turned back to the two men standing before him.

"Minister Fudge. Governor Malfoy," Shinji began, feeling himself coming almost to attention. "It is my pleasure to introduce to you the Lady Amber Noel, the eldest daughter of the Sixth Earl of Gainsborough."

"…Lady Noel, is it?" Lucius repeated, raising an eyebrow at the sheer presumption of such a claim. "How...charming."

"It is my title, Governor Malfoy," Amber replied demurely. "Surely it is not so unusual to meet a peer of the realm? Or are there no noble Houses among the wizards of Britain?"

"There are none in Wizarding Britain today," Minister Fudge cut in smoothly. "At least, not since Lord Black left us for the shores of America."

"Ah, truly?" Amber questioned, seeming most fascinated. "I see. Unlike the Britain I know, this one is truly a land of commoners."

"Commoners?" Lucius Malfoy echoed, his voice and expression both quite mild.

"Indeed, commoners," the young lady acknowledged. "The word, if you are not familiar with it, is simply what we call those who are not members of the peerage by birth or courtesy, much as you term those who are not born as wizards or witches, Muggles." She paused for a moment. "Do understand, I mean it as no slight. Commoners cannot help how they were born, after all."

"...I see," the Malfoy patriarch noted, nodding slowly. "How very...fascinating."

"The very word with which I would describe magical customs," Amber said brightly. "Truly, great minds must think alike, Governor."

"Perhaps," Lucius Malfoy allowed, a mask of perfect calm on his face. It would not do to respond to the provocations of an... ignorant child, after all. Even if she did have pretensions of being a Lady of some sort. "Minister, I do believe there were others we were to speak to? Perhaps...good Quirinus? Or even…Mister Lockhart, so recently returned from his travels."

"Ah, yes indeed," Minister Fudge said brightly. "I am looking forward to seeing what adventures Gilderoy experienced this time, and if he'll write a book about them. It's so…refreshing…to hear about how people live outside of Britain. Really, it makes us realize how lucky we are to be in such a civilized land, wouldn't you say, Lucius?"

"…quite."

"Mister Matou, Miss Noel, it was a pleasure to meet both of you," the Minister intoned. "I hope to see you both again in time, as we Hufflepuffs are so rarely recognized for our good deeds."

"Thank you for taking the time to greet us, Your Excellency," Amber replied with a curtsy. "It was so very nice to meet you. Oh, and you, Governor Malfoy."

Lucius Malfoy merely nodded, before the two men walked off, with Shinji looking between them and his smiling companion with a feeling that something had just gone on that he hadn't grasped the nuances of.

"That was rather fun, don't you agree, Matou?" the brunette beamed, taking his hand and leading him towards the buffet table.

"Fun?" Shinji asked quizzically, allowing himself to be pulled along in her wake.

"Indeed," Amber confirmed, with a warm chuckle. "Governor Malfoy very much reminds me of one of my old teachers. He was always convinced that Natsumi and I were up to no good."

"And were you?"

"My disciplinary record would say otherwise, Mister Matou, unlike my dear brother's."

"...that just means you were never caught."

"Does it?" she said brightly. "I hadn't the faintest idea. Now, come along, let us see if this reception features proper british tea, or whether it will be butterbeer and pumpkin juice."

"...well, anything's better than pumpkin juice."

"On that note, you are quite right."

* * *

The duo, having little else to do aside from greet well-wishers every once in a while – a task Shinji quickly grew tired of, despite the list including the head of the Departments of Magical Law Enforcement, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and other such – since everyone else was talking to Quirrell, Lockhart, or the Minister, wandered about the atrium, talked of many things, and eventually, bored out of their minds, decided to ask one of the Aurors providing security for the event if they could receive a tour or something like it.

"A tour?" the dark-skinned Auror questioned. "Of the Ministry?"

"If you wouldn't mind asking, we would be grateful," Amber said deferentially. "It's just that, we have nothing to do while everyone is talking to our Professor."

"…I'll see what I can arrange," the man said, while making no promises.

He took a mirror out of his pocket and spoke softly into it, a short, rapid-fire exchange that ended with a nod.

"Someone will be down shortly."

As it happened, there was someone available to give such a tour: Auror Trainee Nymphadora Tonks, who as a very recent Hufflepuff Alumna (graduated the year before, actually!), was curious about the first year Puff who had allegedly tried to save Filch's life.

Since she was only a trainee, she hadn't been asked to provide security, which was the only way someone so junior as an Auror would have been allowed to attend the ceremony at all, so when the request came for someone to give a VIP a tour of the Ministry, she leapt at the chance.

After all, if she was guiding around a firstie, surely he would be able to tell her what exactly had happened during the incident, and how Professor Quirrell was doing, now that he was the Defense Professor, not the Muggle Studies Professor.

"Auror Trainee Tonks, reporting as ordered, sir!" she said, saluting as she came down and caught sight of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Auror who had been assigned as the head of event security. "You wanted me to escort some VIPs, sir?"

"Yes, Trainee. Mister Shinji Matou and Lady Amber Noel from Hogwarts," the powerfully-built Auror replied. "Feel free to humor their requests, _within reason_."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Tonks responded, looking at the two first years – one, an oriental dressed in shimmering silver robes, and the other an Englishwoman in a ruffled red dress. "So the two of you, huh?"

"Y-yes!" Shinji remarked, noting how pretty Tonks was up close as he bowed, and taking her hand, kissed it. "Matou Shinji, at your service."

"And I am Amber Noel, Trainee Tonks," the Gryffindor girl added, noting with some amusement how Tonks seemed surprised by Shinji's…manners.

"Huh, wasn't expecting you two to be like that. But I guess people can surprise you, whether firsties or older folks," the Auror-trainee reflected, letting her hair become a most interesting shade of purple, which Shinji noticed was the exact shade that Sokaris' often took. "You wanted to see the Ministry? Come with me, then, I'll give you the tour."

"Including the Department of Mysteries?" Amber quipped, to which Tonks looked at her strangely.

"No. I value my job, thank you very much," Tonks replied shortly, as the three of them stepped into an elevator. "Anywhere but that and the Minister's office should be fine. But we can start anywhere. We have time."

"Can we…try the Department of International Magical Cooperation?" Shinji wondered aloud, curious to see what such a place would look like. The Association, while it did do diplomacy, wasn't exactly a country, after all…

"If you like," Tonks said, pushing the button for the fifth floor. "Tell you wot. We don't have to let this just be a tour. Ask me something. Or a couple somethings. Least I can do for a Puff and a girl he fancies enough to invite her to this kind of thing."

"I-it's not really like that!" Shinji said, his face turning a most interesting shade of red as he looked away. "I...I just thought Lady Gainsborough would appreciate this…this sort of thing."

"Huh? And you even have him trained," Auror Trainee Tonks remarked with a bit of a smirk, glancing over at a thoroughly amused Amber. "Nice work, girl. You a Puff too?"

"Gryffindor, actually," the brunette corrected. "Though it's not as if which house one is in truly matters, does it?"

"It does – and it doesn't," Tonks answered with a shrug. "You'll see what I mean in a few years. So… questions?"

"…you're a metamorphmagus, aren't you?" Shinji asked, making the Auror trainee blink.

"How'd you know?"

"Your hair – I saw it change color just now. Just like one of my friends can change her features."

"Oh?" Amber commented. "Which one?"

"Just oh…a Ravenclaw," Shinji said, not wanting to say exactly who it was if Amber didn't already know who he was talking about.

"Ah, there's someone like me at Hogwarts? And a Ravenclaw?" Tonks asked. "Too bad I graduated. We could have done so much mischief together."

"…should an Auror really be saying something like this?"

"Auror _Trainee_. I'm not a full member of the serious squad yet. Two more years to go. Already passed the tests of character though."

"Was it difficult, becoming a trainee?" Amber questioned.

"Like you wouldn't believe. Need top grades for that you do. Five N.E.W.T.s, nothing under 'Exceeds Expectations', and all sorts of aptitude tests. Best of the best, we are!" Tonks bragged, puffing out her chest.

"N.E.W.T.s?" Shinji echoed. "What are…?"

"Tests. The next level after OWLs."

"I see. So you needed NEWTs in…"

"Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms," Tonks rattled off. "All the classes 'cept Astronomy and History. Not easy, doing what I do, or getting to where I am. Harder for Hufflepuffs sometimes, even if a few of us stand out."

"You were a Hufflepuff, too?" Shinji asked, curious about the beautiful young woman with purple hair.

"I was. Not Head Girl or anything, but I think I left an impression," she said with something like a smirk. "Like I said, a few of us stand out." She paused for a moment. "I don't suppose you would know Miyuki? She was a firstie in my last year."

"…you mean Tsuji Miyuki?" Shinji hazarded. Was…was the Auror trainee talking about senpai? "If so, then yes. She…" He blushed, remembering how what he was wearing had been made by her hands. "She made what I'm wearing, actually."

"Huh, did she now?" Tonks murmured, shaking her head. "Good to see she made a friend. Wasn't sure if she would bother again, after what happened with those Ravenclaws."

"…after _what_ happened exactly?" Amber asked, her voice hard. "I mean…I know Miyuki too, from…before Hogwarts."

"Ah…" Tonks noted with a sigh. "Let's just say, some jealous Ravenclaws didn't like how their little heartthrob liked working with some Muggleborn rather than one of them. After he got sick and dropped out, they started bullying her, blaming her for what happened. She waited for them to stop, thinking they'd get tired in the end, but they didn't. So she did what she had to. She stopped them."

Before she could say more, the elevator _dinged_ as it arrived at the fifth floor at last.

"But that's enough of that. Shall we?"


	16. Practice Makes Progress

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 15.** _Practice Makes Progress_

A month passed without anything too…out of the ordinary happening. At least, out of the ordinary for _Hogwarts_ , which was probably not the standard to which other boarding schools were held. And if that meant that Unspeakables and Aurors teams were a nearly constant presence at Hogwarts, centered around the bathroom that had once been claimed by the late Myrtle Warren, coupled with stuffy wizards in rather plain robes meeting with Rubeus Hagrid, carrying scroll after scroll filled with dense magical legalese (which amounted to him waiving his chance to sue the Ministry for ruining his life and paying a small fine for various minor transgressions he pled to, in exchange for being allowed to own a wand once more and complete his Hogwarts education), well, young people were quite capable of turning a blind eye of things that didn't concern them when something more…enticing was dangled before them.

Something like Professor Quirrell's Christmas Challenge.

"Yes, you heard rightly," the Defense Professor intoned, his gaze flicking over. "This time, the challenge is optional, but should you succeed, well, in honor of the season of giving, I have a most generous gift prepared for the one individual from each year who most _impresses_ me."

The man smiled thinly as he whips an invisibility cloak off the desk it had been concealing, revealing a solid oak surface…and what looked like dragonhide, but was really—

"Enough Basilisk Skin to craft into an entire set of clothing," the man continued, his impassive expression making way for a thin smile at the gasps and murmurs that arose in the room. "It is something you will not find anywhere else, or offered by anyone else, given that the creation of Basilisks is now illegal – and further, even if you did miraculously acquire some, you wouldn't be able to claim that those came from a creature that once served Salazar Slytherin himself. What I offer is a piece of history—and the perfect gift for any young wizard or witch with a discerning eye."

The Professor chuckled, noting that he had the entire class hanging on his every word – not an unusual thing after he'd been awarded an Order of Merlin, ascending to the status of a living legend, but gratifying nonetheless.

"I'm sure you're all wondering: what do I have to do for this prize?" Quirrell remarked almost casually. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one pupil of his looking upon the basilisk skin particularly intently. "Yes, Mister Noel?"

"…fight a dragon?" the brown-haired boy suggested, his green eyes bright with hope.

"I'm afraid not," the Professor said to the enthusiastic Gryffindor. "That would rather beyond the capabilities of any first year."

"Tame a nundu, then?"

"…no."

"Wrestle a troll?" the boy guessed, out of ideas.

" _Emphatically_ , no," the Defense Professor replied, shaking his head. "I see no point in setting students up to fail, or in making them face challenges they have no chance at winning. In the trials I place in your path, there is always a path to victory, should you be both clever and decisive enough to find it, much as was the case in the challenge at the beginning of this year, which some of you rose to quite admirably." He paused to let his words sink in before shaking his head. "In fact, in the trials to come, it is possible to win without even lifting a wand, if you will allow me to explain?"

A hush fell in the classroom, a silence that was not merely the lack of sound but the very opposite of sound itself.

"Those who wish to win the basilisk skin may participate in one of the two challenges I will make available – but they must do so in teams of three. And unlike the challenge you participated in at the beginning of the year, there will be no blind pairings."

He glanced around to see if any of the students seemed lost, finding instead a somewhat frustrated redhead.

"But what if we can't find a team of three?" Ron Weasley asked, frowning at the man's words.

"Then you may not participate," the Defense Professor ruled. "So, choose quickly, but choose _wisely_ , if you want to have any chance of victory. Any other questions?"

"What will the two scenarios be, Professor?" Amber Noel asked, her quiet voice pitched just high enough to be audible in the entire room.

"A pertinent question, though I was just getting to that, Miss Noel," Quirrell noted mildly. "The first scenario is based on several incidents that took place quite a few centuries ago, in which British wizards attempted to circumnavigate the globe on wholly inadequate broomsticks. Should you choose this scenario, you and your party will take the place of the ill-fated Dagba expedition, which crashed in the Assam area of modern-day India, in the wake of a massive storm. Like that unfortunate party, you will be stranded in the wilderness, without broomsticks, wands, or majority of your provisions, with your only hope of survival reaching a settlement you passed several hours ago by broom. On foot."

"Huh. So just going through a jungle?" Phelan clarified, shaking his head. "That doesn't seem so hard, unless…will we have to fight deadly beasts on the way? Face poisonous plants and treacherous natives?"

"It is quite possible to make the journey unmolested," Quirrell replied, not exactly answering the question. "And more than magical creatures or plants which may or may not be present, I would be more concerned about the weather."

"The…weather?" Phelan repeated slowly, as if he was having trouble understanding. "But Professor, how could the weather possibly be dangerous?"

"You mean aside from blowing flights of brooms off course, or flooding rivers and making them dangerous?"

"…but we'd be on foot, so we wouldn't have to worry about trying to fly through a storm," the boy reasoned. "And _are_ there rivers we have to cross?"

"Not necessarily," Quirrell responded. "But then, there is very little one _has_ to do, since both scenarios are optional."

"So, what will the other one involve, Professor?" Amber questioned, not seeming particularly interested in the first, or perhaps just wanting to know her options so she could make an informed decision.

"Ah, the other…" the Defense Professor voiced, with a grim smile. "The 'other', as you put it, Miss Noel, has the party in command of a base of rebels fighting a desperate war against a Dark Wizard who has already conquered most of Europe. The base has powerful magical defenses, though its greatest protection was always obscurity, which is why it was tucked away on the wintry isle of Hos. Unfortunately, in the wake of a particularly successful rebel operation in which his obscurus-powered ritual was interrupted, and the site destroyed, the Dark Lord has taken notice of this…alliance of the desperate, and so he has brought war to Hos, intending to kill or capture every rebel he finds there."

The man chuckled.

"With the forces at his disposal, but the base _will_ fall, but if one acts quickly, perhaps the people within – the bulk of the rebel alliance's war-fighting ability – could be evacuated to fight another day. Those who choose this scenario will be charged with the defense of Hos, taking critical roles in the command structure and attempting to hold off the enemy long enough to facilitate the evacuation of the base via magic carpet."

"…why can't they just Apparate to safety, or use a portkey?" someone asked, someone insignificant who hadn't done particularly well in the first challenge.

"Because on arriving at the island, the Dark Lord set up an anti-Disapparition Jinx and an anti-portkey jinx," Quirrell explained with a thin smile. "That is what the carpets are for – so that you may escape the area where the jinx holds power and send your people to safety."

"And can we try both?"

"No. If you intend to participate, you must choose one. You will have one attempt at clearing a scenario – it would scarcely be fair otherwise. You have until the day before the winter holidays to try. Good luck."

* * *

Contrary to what most might have expected, Matou Shinji did not leap at the chance to win a portion of basilisk hide. For one thing, he'd already been gifted a quantity of the material by Professor Quirrell, and so the prize wasn't something he was willing to risk his pride for. And for another, well, given the things that the boy had experienced in the past few months, what with the rather painful end he experienced in Quirrell's last challenge, as well as what ended up happening with the Chamber of Secrets incident and his abject failure to see through Slughorn's game at Halloween, Shinji's enthusiasm for death-defying adventures was at an all-time low.

' _If someone asks me to join their team, I might do that, but I'm not going to go out of my way to look for one,'_ the boy told himself. _'It's just too much trouble.'_

Though he supposed that if he happened to win an extra portion of Basilisk skin, he might finally have the perfect gift for Miyuk-senpai, since he couldn't really think of anything else worthy of her – especially since he had lost the chance to present her with a vial of Liquid Luck.

' _So, we'll see, I guess. It's not like many people will try to get me on their team anyway, right?'_

Sadly, the boy was quite mistaken.

As the so-called "Hero of the Chamber" who had shown great moral integrity in trying to save the life of Argus Filch, as well as beating Quirrell's first challenge singlehandedly, there were a great many who sought to enlist his aid.

Phelan Noel, and Ron Weasley, who he learned had been the name of the rather bored looking redhead he'd seen that first day in herbology, wanted him to join their team for a trek through the jungles of India (surviving the crash), to which the boy demurred, as he had no intention of being in a party led by someone…lacking wisdom or any sense of restraint.

In some ways, Shinji still blamed Phelan for making him deal with Filch's death, and he knew that while the two Gryffindors might see traipsing through a misty, swampy land, facing who knew what dangers on the way as one made for safety, as a grand adventure, reality was not so kind. As such, the fact was that none of them had survival training, and that they would wands for the scenario, made him wary, since he'd already seen firsthand what could happen if one was caught unaware, without some way to defend oneself from a threat.

That, and having talked to Nigel, he knew that most modern brooms (non-racing) tended to move at a top speed of about 95-115 kilometers per hour.

Thus, a destination several hours away by broom...was considerably more than that on foot, something that he feared Phelan had overlooked in his...enthusiasm. And while humans, which were capable of walking long distances when push came to shove, could theoretically cover that span in a day or so, that was only in the absence of things like terrain, thirst, hunger, body condition, and basic safety.

' _So all in all,_ _ **no.'**_

Amber Noel, with a shy Natsumi in tow, had approached him as well, asking if he was interested in defending Hos together with them. Knowing of their competence, especially when working together, Matou Shinji was quite tempted by the offer, as he imagined that together, they could defeat whatever Quirrell threw at them – yet something held him back.

' _Mostly the fact that they did far better than I did at Halloween.'_

It might be somewhat petty, but there was a part of the boy that wanted to show that he didn't need their help to win – that wanted to prove that he was capable enough with another team to be their equal.

 _'I know I'm probably being an idiot for not joining them, but if so, that's my choice. I have my pride, after all.'_

Whatever pride was worth in the end.

' _I kind of wish Sokaris was participating in this challenge…'_ the boy thought to himself. _'I'd work with her in a heartbeat.'_

For some reason she'd chosen not to, as had Nigel, who she often worked with.

' _Nigel I understand, since he has issues with his health that still aren't fixed.'_ He wondered if Nigel had been the so-called heartthrob of Ravenclaw that Tonks had spoken of, but dismissed the thought, since the grey-haired boy seemed so soft-spoken and quiet. _'Sokaris though…'_

Well, it wasn't as if she was going to say just _what_ her reasons were, so the boy hadn't bothered asking.

There had been a number of others who'd asked him to join them: Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors mostly, though in the end, he'd chosen to reject all of their offers.

At least until Ernie Macmillan & Selina Moore had approached him, looking for a third member of their team for the Defense of Hos scenario – the very one that Amber and Natsumi were going to attempt.

' _Well, if its these two, it might be alright.'_

Both his friend and the artificer of Slytherin House had beaten Quirrell's first challenge, after all, so he could assume they were at least somewhat confident, and if together, they could _beat_ Amber and Natsumi, then perhaps they would praise _him_.

' _If we win, that is.'_

* * *

One thing led to another, after that, with the group meeting with Quirrell, choosing the scenario they wanted…and being plunged into darkness, hurtling through dimensions of strange and alien geometries, indescribable to the senses until they appeared at last in a chamber bounded on all sides but one with jet-black stone engraved with runes glowing with a soft silver light.

The remaining side, a wall, was a pane of what seemed like silvered glass, providing the new arrivals with a view of a vast cavern carved into a great glacier, where boxes of supplies had been stacked haphazardly, with wizards in white and orange robes working on brooms in various stages of assembly, and piling up a number of what seemed like richly woven carpets.

"Huh...so this is Hos, huh?" Ernie muttered, his breath misting as he spoke. "It's a bit…"

"Colder than you expected?" Shinji asked, the corners of his lips tugging upwards just a bit at his friend's discomfort, despite the fact that he was shivering himself. "Well, the Professor did say we'd be on a wintry isle."

"…I should have worn my winter cloak," the other Huflepuff muttered.

Selina, having worn _hers_ , ignored this bit of banter as she looked around, her feet carrying her to the object dominating the center of the room: a table of crystal, atop which markers wrought of light glowed in two main colors: blue and red.

"Hm? What's this?" she murmured, leaning in close to read the inscriptions. "Squadron status. Ammunition reserve. Wall company status. Shield strength – this is something like a command center."

Or at least, this was a magical war table, which seemed to keep track of the entire base.

…and of course, of the enemies immediately surrounding it, with the simulation helpfully highlighting a number of red sigils and figures that apparently represented trolls, giants, and dementors.

"This is pretty neat," Selina remarked, finding that she could zoom in or out on various parts of the model by pinching and zooming with her fingers, rotate the three-dimensional display with simple swipes, or simply by asking. "Uh…situation report?" she hazarded.

" **Situation Report: Enigma Base** ," a metallic voice repeated, seemingly from the walls around them, as a figure of smoke formed above the table. "Defenses under siege. Ammunition reserve at ninety percent. Command structure compromised. Enemies present in vast numbers. Anti-disapparition jinx and anti-portkey jinxes detected. Probability of successfully defending Enigma base: negligible. **Evacuation protocols recommended**."

"…initialize evacuation protocols," Selina responded. After all, if a magical voice that knew the status of the base was recommending evacuation, perhaps it was a good idea to comply.

" **Initiation of Evacuation protocols requires the concurrence of three senior staff. Please confirm your designations and roles**."

In the room, five circles of runes appeared, each large enough for a single person to step into and helpfully labelled with a title.

Base Commander.

Logistics Coordinator.

Wing Commander.

Wall Commander.

Battery Commander.

"Uh...so each of us should step into one of these?" Ernie asked the insubstantial figure of smoke. "To…confirm evacuation protocols?"

" **Correct**."

"What do each of these do again?" the Hufflepuff boy asked, scratching his head. "Uh…under evacuation protocols, that is?" he amended.

 **"The Base Commander will coordinate the overall strategic situation from this control center, managing available forces and deploying them to meet enemy movements, while ensuring that the evacuation proceeds."**

"Sounds like something I can do," Selina spoke up, as the petite blonde walked over to the circle marked with "Base Commander", and something like a sigil appeared on the back of her hand - a seal indicating her rank and authority.

" **The Logistics Coordinator, subordinate only to the Commander, will organize the evacuation of the base, deciding which personnel will join which convoy, what forces will be used for convoy protection, and the size of the convoys."**

"Hmm."

" **The Wing Commander will assume field command of Wraith, Rogue, and Havoc squadrons, the elite air assets of Enigma Base. This force is highly mobile, and may be used for reconnaissance, spoiling attacks, and target designation, or to assist other forces."**

"And the Battery Commander?" Shinji asked, thinking he knew, but wanting to be certain.

" **The Battery Commander directs Enigma Base's trebuchets and the troops assigned to man and protect them."**

"Tre…what?" the boy from the east tried to say. "What are-?"

" **Trebuchets are powerful siege engines, which hurl heavy payloads across the battlefield. Those of Enigma Base use alchemically prepared ammunition, with the primary ammunition involving liquid fiendfyre. Other variant ammunition includes anti-magic projectiles, stabilized blasting curses, and sealed boggarts."**

' _Sealed…boggarts? What the hell?'_

" **Command of troops on the fortifications falls to the Wall Commander.** "

"I guess...Logistics, then?" Ernie said after a minute, though it was obvious that he was not entirely confident about the choice. "If the point of this entire scenario is to buy time for an evacuation, then it would be plain stupid for someone to not take that role. Though maybe the Wall…?" he looked thoughtful as he turned to the table. "Say, What will happen with the roles we don't take?"

 **"Unfilled roles will be assigned to base personnel, based on seniority."**

"So...whatever we don't take will be handled by people from the simulation?" Ernie frowned at this. "That doesn't…it doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.

"It isn't meant to," Selina answered, shaking her head. "I'm sure the Professor wants us to make a choice, giving us the freedom to decide what approach we want to take."

"A choice, huh?" Shinji repeated, smiling ruefully. He knew a thing or two about choices, and about how sometimes there weren't any good ones. "Fine. Ernie, you take Logistics. I'll take the Wall."

Saying that, the Japanese boy stepped into the circle corresponding to his choice, as a sigil appeared on his hand. Ernie, not really feeling up to the heroics of Wing Command, or quite good enough at calculation for Battery Command, did what Shinji suggested, taking the all-important position of Logistics.

When they had finished, a different voice spoke, with the smoke-like figure taking the shape of Professor Quirrell.

"Commanders, you are charged with coordinating the defense of Hos, holding off the enemy long enough to facilitate the evacuation of the base via magic carpet. I realize that you may be short on key personnel, but you will have to make do. Reinforcement of Enigma Base is currently impossible, due to the presence of the Dark Lord himself, so you will have to do your best. Should you fail – should the base fall with the bulk of its troops unevacuated, the rebellion against the Dark Lord will fall with it, so I wish you every success – the freedom of the world rests on your shoulders." There was a momentary pause, before the figure spoke once more. "I regret that I must entrust this responsibility to those so young, but I have no choice. This is the Rebellion's most desperate hour, and you, operatives, are our last and only hope."

 **"Tactical Analysis updated. Location: Enigma Base, Hos. The current time is midnight. Projected time until defensive spells are breached: one hour.** **Evacuation Protocols Initiated."**

Light flared, almost as bright as the sun, and moments later, Matou Shinji found himself outside, standing atop a high wall wrapping around a frozen mountain, with a blizzard raging all around him, and bursts of color and light blooming in the distance where the base's defense barrier were being bombarded by enemy spells.

"Commander, what's the situation? Is it true that evacuation protocols have been enacted?" a thin, dark-haired man dressed in blood-red robes asked, with Shinji taking a step back in surprise, as he hadn't noticed the man. "First Company would like instructions."

"And you are?"

"Major Kairos, sir, commanding First Wall Company, Enigma Defense Forces."

"Lieutenant Lagrange, Second Wall Company," a second added, with Shinji glancing over to see a bushy-haired brunette also clad in red, whose vaguely familiar was stern and showed no trace of fear. "Your orders?"

"If I may, sir, you have several options," Major Kairos explained. "Our companies can direct our wands to do several things. We could reinforce the shields of Enigma Base, extending the time the enemy will take to wear through our defenses – so long as the Dark Lord doesn't use his cursed Elder Wand. We could accept that the shield will collapse and transfigure the ground into defensive structures and traps to slow down the inevitable assault to follow. We could even attempt something more offensive, should Enigma Actual agree."

"More offensive?" Shinji echoed.

"The explosive barrier strategy," Major Kairos explained. "Where we intentionally collapse the shields, channeling the remaining magic in them into something that will kill or stun the enemy. Theoretically, anyway. We've never actually done it before, as it would destroy our ability to raise the barrier again."

"…huh. Could be handy. Why haven't we done that yet?"

"Because of the risk that the Dark Lord will simply bring in reinforcements, even if we annihilate the first wave."

"I see." The boy sighed, shaking his head. "You're right, we have initiated evacuation protocols, and as you probably know, we're under attack by the Dark Lord's force. Right now, the defensive spells are holding, but..."

"If this is just a probe, we might be able to hold. But against a full-scale assault...there's no chance," the red-robed man supplied, bowing his head. "Not with our numbers against what he can raise. Not that a probe can't become a full-scale assault, but..."

"Well, what are we looking at, Commander?" Lagrange asked, seeming rather uneasy, since the snowstorm severely limited visibility. "What's in that force?"

"Trolls," Shinji recalled from the table in the situation room. "Giants. And I think...dementors."

"Ah...a full-assault then," Major Kairos noted, with a grim nod. "So, we're buying time to get those carpets loaded."

"That's right," Shinji confirmed. "We have maybe an hour before the defenses fall if things continue as they are."

"...that's not a lot of time, Commander. So, I ask again, what are your orders?" the stern-faced Lieutenant Lagrange inquired, even as she turned to glance uneasily out towards the barrier. "Reinforcing the shields might buy us another hour. _Might,_ assuming the Dark Lord doesn't hit us while we're shoring it up. Either way, it will leave at least one company exhausted. We could use our magic to set traps on the ground, turning into a muddy morass that trolls and giants will have trouble slogging through, and letting our friends up the mountain hit them with their flaming bombs."

"We could even try to shore up the forward lines, or set up better magical bulwarks for us to fight from, though I don't like our odds if that army reaches us. Well, maybe if use the Old Magic, but even that..."

"Let's focus on the ground," the boy from the east said decisively, feeling the sigil branded on the back of his hand pulse with power. "I don't want us exhausted before the fight even begins, especially if the worst happens."

"As you wish, Commander." The red-robed man bowed. "If you could coordinate with the Wing Commander?"

"Uh, sure," Shinji stated, wondering just how he was going to do that. "Just uh..."

"Focus on the sigil on your hand, and the person you wish to reach," the man supplied, raising an eyebrow. "I take it you're from one of the other bases, Commander?"

"...you could say that, yes."

"If I may speak freely, all of us place a great deal of trust in Supreme Commander Quirrell and his lieutenants," the man remarked. "So please, don't disappoint us, Commander. Our lives – and the future of the rebellion – are at stake, after all. Not just the lives of the First and Second Wall Companies."

"Do your duty, and I'll do mine," Shinji replied, with the man nodding after a moment before turning away to rally the troops and organize them to do his bidding.

Thinking on what the man had said, he focused on trying to reach out to Selina, thinking of the blonde and her title of Base Commander.

"Selina, what's the situation?" he asked, only to blink as a voice replied from out of nothingness.

"Ernie is down in the hangar, with his subordinates working on getting the carpets sorted. It's a bit of a mess down there – some are fine, but many need maintenance. There's some issue with those disassembled brooms too, something about an argument about what to spend time on."

"I see, and the other positions?"

"The Wing Commander – who reminds me of Phelan –" Shinji twitched. "Is currently detailed to reconnaissance, with his men impatient to do more. He has suggested collapsing _part_ of the barrier...explosively."

' _Huh, part of it?'_

"...Just part of it? What would that even..."

"Most of the dark wizards bombarding the shields are on the side of the isle facing the base's main entrance," Selina supplied. "There are a few other ways in and out of Enigma, but none big enough for the enemy's main assault forces. Or for us to launch a large-scale evacuation from, really. If we collapse that part of the barrier while it still has a good bit of magic left, the release of power will be bright enough to burn out the eyes of anyone - or anything - looking right at it, as well as throw enough magic in the air to make it more difficult for dementors to seek us out. And in their moment of inattention, the broom squadron can fly out among them and give our trebuchets proper targeting information."

"...what's the catch?"

"If we take down that part of the barrier, we won't be able to get it back up," Selina admitted. "And if our trebuchets don't manage to take out some of the enemy, then we will have cut short our preparation time for nothing." She paused. "Speaking of which, your troops can cast the Patronus, right?"

"I...don't know, actually," Shinji admitted. "I didn't think to ask. Let me check on that. In the meantime, I need the Wing Commander to lend my people some brooms, so we can turn the ground approaches into something a little more difficult to march across."

"Not a bad idea. I'll pass along the orders."

"Thanks."

"And the Wing Commander's explosive barrier plan?" Selina prompted.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now," Shinji responded, tactfully not saying precisely what he thought of it. "Not if the carpets are in bad a shape as you describe. Ernie needs the time to check them out and plan how to pull everyone out without...you know."

"Without getting us all killed, because he pulled too many forces from the wall?"

"...I wasn't going to put it like that, but...yeah," the boy admitted, shaking his head. "We might be able to wipe out some of the enemy, but then what? What if they send reinforcements, and we haven't had time to prepare? A single assault wave is going to matter much, if we're not ready."

"Hm. Point. Let's check in after half an hour, Matou?"

"Sure. Let's do that," Shinji agreed. "Matou, out."

He tapped the sigil, cutting the connection, as something came to mind.

 _'We could probably use a forward position. A wall of some kind we can use to funnel the enemy into areas the artillery can hit.'_

It didn't need to stop the enemy, just slow them down and...funnel them into areas the batteries could better hit. But who to assign to it? 1st company, who seemed more experienced at these things?

 _'No. I'll use 2nd company.'_

Second company was led by a lieutenant, after all, which implied something had happened to the people above her. If he was right, and she was a novice, then he thought she might be better off raising a wall instead of turning the ground into a killing field.

' _At least, it would be harder to mess up.'_

He moved towards where his troops were waiting for broom pickup and relayed his new orders, as well as some details about how 1st Company should rotate through members as they worked on transfiguring the ground.

"You don't have to tell me my job, Commander," the red-robed major remarked wryly. "I've been fighting this war a very long time. I was there when Britain fell, you know."

"I didn't. And in these years, what have we…?"

"Enough. Enough to keep hope alive," Major Kairos replied with steel in his voice. "We don't have _his_ raw power, or his numbers, but we do our part. We will fight in whatever battlefield we are needed, whatever the cost may be. We won't surrender to _him."_

"Very well then," the boy acknowledged, dismissing the man as the brooms came down, with the Wing Commander detailing somewhat disgruntled flyboys to transport the wall troops as needed, before marching over to him.

"I hear _you're_ the one who said no to the barrier plan," the youth noted – and sure enough, as Selina said, the Wing Commander reminded him of an older Phelan. "And the one asking my boys to be glorified transports. Why not get Logistics to send up a bloody carpet? Magic knows they have enough of 'em."

"I, uh..." Now that Shinji thought about it, maybe he should have done that, since Ernie wouldn't be evacuating anyone while the barrier was up and having a carpet might let him evacuate his staff right from the wall if need be. "I'll...put in a request."

"Please do. When the barrier goes down my squadrons will be needed to run interference and mark the positions of the enemy, so the fancy contraptions we've got further up the mountain can actually hit something. We can't be stuck on the ground, ferrying people back and forth if we have any chance of holding."

"I...I know. I'm trying to buy what time I can," Shinji countered, not feeling entirely certain now that he was being confronted. "If the ground isn't prepared..."

"With all due respect, Wall Commander, I don't give a whit about what you think you can manage in a mere half an hour. In case you hadn't noticed, there's a blizzard right now, and nothing except dementors moves easily in a snowstorm." The green-eyed youth brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. "Nature will do more to keep the enemy off balance than anything we think up." The youth sighed, shaking his head. "Still, they're your troops. If you want them to waste their time like this, by all means. Just remember, when that barrier goes down, the enemy is going to come at us. And the more you tire them out, the worse off they're going to be for a fight."

"I know that, but—"

"And we're going to have to fight," the Wing Commander said roughly, as if Shinji hadn't spoken at all. "If we don't – if we cut and run, well, the main entrance to the base faces the enemy. And if they get in while we're launching carpets…"

"Even if we went with your plan, wiped out their first wave, what if they send more?"

"Oh, they will," the Wing Commander replied grimly. "You can count on that as you can count on the fact the sun won't rise tonight, on this frozen piece of shit. The point of the explosive barrier was never to defeat them all – just to wipe out enough to throw our enemies into disarray. If we're smart, we might even be able to stop them from bringing in reinforcements for a few minutes, leaving us with just what they have here."

"Until the Dark Lord does something."

"Sure, but even if we can't outfight him, we can damn outfly him. Especially in a storm," the youth replied. "He's powerful, but he's one person. If we can draw his attention, keep him busy, we'll have a clear window to get some of our people to safety."

"Huh. I didn't think of that."

"Look. I get that you're good, or Supreme Commander Quirrell wouldn't have sent you up here, but you don't know Enigma Base like we do. You haven't fought the Dark Lord like we have. Just...I hope you know what you're doing. We have more than just our lives depending on it."

"I know," Shinji said softly, but the Wing Commander had already turned and taken his leave, with the Japanese boy shaking his head as the youth ascends into the sky. "...and you know, I hope I know what I'm doing too."

* * *

Half an hour later, the boy wasn't any more certain that he was doing the right thing, but the fact that he'd managed to get a carpet assigned to transport his troops, that his subordinates were carrying out his orders faithfully and he could _see_ their efforts taking shape gave him some confidence.

' _I just hope everyone else is doing ok too.'_

"Selina, what's the status?" he asked, focusing once more on the image of the petite blonde Base Commander.

"The defenses are still intact for now, but they'll fall in about half an hour," the blonde replied. "According to the Wing Commander, the number of wizards the enemy has is minimal, and they're the only ones attacking, while the trolls and giants are forming into assault columns."

"And the dementors?"

"Surrounding the base. No doubt to track us if we try a breakout." Selina paused for a moment, making an odd sound with her voice. "I see you seem to have things well in hand. How about you, Ernie?"

" _What is it_ now _?_ " the sandy-haired Hufflepuff's voice _snapped_ across the connection.

"The half-hour update?"

"I…check back later."

"Ernie. Ernie, what's going on?"

"What _isn't_ going on?" Macmillan replied. "We have enough problems down here, without you asking for more carpets, or brooms or the like."

"…Ernie, I never asked for a broom."

"Fine. Whatever," the Logistics Coordinator replied, his voice brusque. "Look, you wanted me on Logistics, so let me do my bloody job without interruptions. We have carpets that need repair, broom parts everywhere, and supplies to be moved out of the way. We don't have enough space to load up or launch a lot of carpets at once. If anything, we'll have to send them out in a trickle, and the longer we're here once the shields drop, the bigger the chance the Dark Lord will just kill all of us. Especially since the more people we evacuate, the weaker our defenses get."

"What do you propose?"

"Look, no matter what I do, someone will be left short-handed," Ernie said irritably, his voice quite clear as it came through the sigil. "If I pull from the battery, then we have no way of hurting the enemy seriously. I mean, they're giants, and with all due respect, while the Wing Commander talks a good game, I don't really have confidence that anyone based on Phelan can back up his claims, not after…"

"Ernie, focus, please," Selina cut in.

"Right. Sorry. If I pull from the wall troops, then the Dark Lord will know something's happening, since we'd be abandoning our fortifications – even if I don't think those will last if the giants get to us. I can't ask for too many escorts from the brooms, since we need them to scout and to run interference against the Dark Lord. And I bloody well can't evacuate logistics first! What would be the bloody point of that?"

Ernie sighed in frustration.

"And then well, our carpets are slow. They're designed to carry a lot of weight, not to outrace brooms. If the Dark Lord does notice them, if the Wing Commander can't actually hold his attention, he'll pick them off one at a time. Look, the way I see it, we either weaken ourselves a little at a time, hoping the snowstorm and what traps we can set up are going to be enough, or we do something really big and try to get everyone out at once, while they're distracted."

"Something big, like what?"

"I don't know," the boy said, clearly exasperated. "Maybe we blow the barrier. Get carpets and to everyone who can run, save who we can while the rest cover our retreat."

"You want to leave all those people to die?" Shinji asked, appalled. "Are you afraid of dying?"

"Says the guy who was afraid enough of trouble not to follow us down that pipe," Ernie shot back heatedly. "Ah. Sorry, I didn't."

"Look, if you're having trouble, I don't mind taking your job," Shinji offered, feeling a bit of sympathy for his clearly overtaxed friend. "The wall is straightforward enough – I've already given my subordinates some orders and they seem to be carrying them out. All you have to do is not countermand what I've already ordered – and to keep them steady when the fighting starts. Can you do that?"

"Can't be worse than this. But well, I don't—"

"Isn't that kind of the problem?" the boy from the east questioned. "That you don't know? At least out on the wall, you can have something of an idea of what's going on. Not as much as our beautiful Commander of course, but we can't all be perfect…"

"The best flattery you can offer, my dear Matou, would be to do your damn job," Selina's voice cut in from his wrist. "Same for you Ernie."

"I...yes," the other Hufflepuff said with a heavy sigh. "I'm trying, Selina. What more do you want from me?"

"I don't need you to try, Ernie. I need you to do."

"Ernie. Offer's still open."

"I…fine, let's switch," Ernie grunted.

 **"Warning. A change in command structure must be approved by the Base Commander, and may result in a loss of morale** ," a metallic voice cuts in - the same from the table. **"Do you wish to proceed?"**

"A loss in...that sounds bad," Ernie muttered, hesitating. "I..."

"Yes, let's get this over with," Shinji said impatiently. "The longer we spend debating this, the worse off things are going to be, since neither of us will be at our posts."

"Well...ok," the other Hufflepuff agreed. "Selina?"

"...against my better judgment, sure," Selina conceded, sounding frustrated herself.

 **"Change in command verified,"** a voice rang out, as the symbol on Shinji's hand shifted. **"Please proceed to your new stations."**

"...wait. We're not going to just be sent there?" Ernie asked incredulously. Clearly, he had expected a flash of light to take him to their new posts. "We have to walk? I don't even know how—"

A sigh came over the sigils on the backs of their hands, as Selina, fed up with this state of affairs, ordered the base's intelligence gave the two turn by turn directions.

It took about 10 minutes for the two to get to their new posts, but eventually the two managed to switch places successfully, after which, they had to spend some more time assessing the situation.

For Ernie, the troops at the wall didn't really notice the change in command, as they were busy carrying out Shinji's last orders, so things were a little more relaxed for him.

For Shinji however, the hangar was a scene of utter chaos, with logistics personnel running every which way, and two subofficers – a blond who looked like a much younger Lucius Malfoy and an older part goblin – arguing with one another over priorities.

"What's going on here?" Shinji barked, stalking over to the duo, with the two jumping apart and coming to attention.

"Commander. This...ignorant buffoon is wasting our time by concentrating on reassembling brooms, when what we need right now are carpets," the blond snarled – almost politely. "It's like he wants us to be captured by the Dark Lord."

"Watch your words, whelp! I've been fighting this war since before you were born."

"And what a wonderful job you've been doing, since the Dark Lord has just about won."

"You...! If you weren't a rebel, I'd gut you like a fish, Drake! Especially after you drove the last commander away with your foolishness."

"Gentlemen!" Shinji interrupted, with the two turning to him sullenly. First things first. He had to understand what was going on before he could give proper orders. "I understand that you want to reassemble brooms," he stated, looking at the part-goblin. "Why? What's your name, anyway?"

"Mudbutton, sir," the part-goblin stated, shaking his head. "But then our names always have a hole in the middle, you know."

"And the brooms?"

"Every rebel base always has more brooms than we have members in its assigned squadrons. That way, even in if an entire squadron needs to have brooms taken for maintenance, they'll always have something they can fly."

"I see. And you think others can use these well?"

"Sir, while none of us are as good as Rogue, Wraith, or Havoc Squadrons, we all have been cross-trained in how to fly a broom. If we can get all of our spare brooms reassembled and distributed, we'd almost have enough for two additional squadrons - that's more than half a wing. We could use those for close-in air support for our ground troops, or to escort our evacuation convoys." The part goblin cracked a smile. "That way, we wouldn't need to pull the Wing Commander's forces off whatever they were doing, letting them do their jobs and keep the Dark Lord's forces off our backs."

"Button, you're barking. The brooms are a pipe dream. Getting them all fixed will take us more time than we have," the aristocratic blond replied.

"What do you mean? I have faith in-"

"The shield is going to fall, and the moment it does, the Dark Lord's forces are going to sweep in. Every minute we waste, good men and women will die, and we will lose ground. You waste our time on brooms instead of concentrating on making sure those carpets are working and getting our people to evacuate, and you will be the doom of us all, old man."

"Just because you turned your tail and ran when the Dark Lord came after you doesn't mean that-"

"Enough!" Shinji snapped, feeling his body tense up at the argument. "We'll concentrate on..." He paused, shaking his head. "On carpets." The part goblin looked at him in protest, opening his mouth, but— "We don't have time to be fighting like this. We to make sure we can evacuate everyone before we worry about convoys and the like. The brooms would be nice to have, but – let's get the carpets working first."

The aristocratic blond looked vindicated, the part-goblin almost betrayed, though he fought down his outrage.

"...very well, Commander," the one whose opinion had been overruled stated icily, as he saluted. "It will be as you say. You will work on planning out who will evacuate and when?"

"Yes," Shinji stated decisively. "Leave that to me."

"Well, at least you've got more of a spine than the last Coordinator," the part-goblin grumbled. "Even if you will probably get us all killed."


	17. Logistically Infeasible

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 16.** _Logistically Infeasible_

From the control center overlooking the grand hangar, a certain petite blonde monitored the strategic situation, her fingers deftly playing across the war-table's haptic controls as she regarded the movements of the enemy formations and listened to the chatter streaming in over her connection to the other Commanders.

"Battery ready, Fiendrfyre shells loaded," came the report from the Battery Commander. "Awaiting visual confirmation of enemy contacts."

"Wing Commander reporting in," added the youth who she kept thinking of as Phelan, even though he was apparently named Light Cloudstrider or some nonsense, with his three direct subordinates – the captains of Rogue, Wraith, and Havoc Squadrons being named Wedge, Biggs, and Jessie, respectively. "Scouts report enemy forces have ceased bombardment. How are the shields holding up?"

"Shields down to 10 percent," Selina noted grimly, checking the quite intuitive readout – and noting something quite concerning. "All forces be advised: the enemy is pulling back."

"Pulling back?" Ernie's voice asked, sounding quite confused – and more than a little concerned. "But why?"

"Because the Dark Lord is about to act," the Wing Commander responded, his voice grim. "And he wants to spare his minions from the effects of whatever he's about to do."

"…I see."

"Wall Commander, what's your status?" Selina pressed, wanting to get things back on track.

"Uh...First Company has finished transfiguring the ground, and is stationing themselves at the forward line," Ernie reported, taking care not to mumble. "Second Company is falling back to the main wall, with Havoc Squadron transporting them."

"Logistics, tell me you have a plan?" Selina queried. Of the other posts, logistics was the one she was least confident about, mostly due to how it had changed hands – and how it was probably the most complicated of the subordinate command positions.

"Yes – yes, we do," the voice of Matou Shinji replied. "The plan is to send out regular flights, as they're prepped. Wing Commander, I'll be needing a couple of escorts."

"You'll have 'em, Logistics," the Wing Commander answered. "Won't be able to spare more than a few riders though. Not once the shields fall."

"I won't need more than that - not at a time anyway," Shinji answered decisively. "I'll be counting on you and the Wall Commander to keep the enemy busy so they don't notice our carpets."

"How long till the first flight is ready?" Selina questioned.

"...10 minutes," Shinji replied, after checking with his subordinates. "Best I can do."

"Right. We'll buy you the time you need," Selina commented, noting with one eye how the base's instruments were registering one particularly bright point of power rising into the sky a distance from the shields. "All hand, brace—!"

 _ **FWHOOM!**_

Selina staggered as the ground shuddered, grabbing onto the table to keep herself from falling as the base around her rocked and shook so much she thought the walls were going to collapse.

On the three-dimensional model, a stupendously radiant bolt of lightning could be seen crashing into the shields and tearing straight through them, slamming into the ground near the hangar door as ice flashed to superheated steam, and the icy bulwark outside sagged.

That one strike shattered the base's defensive spells, burning out the sigils which had kept them anchored.

But then, that _was_ what one expected from the wielder of the Elder Wand.

"...shields are down," Selina whispered, feeling a shiver go down her spine at the raw power the enemy had exhibited. "No way to bring them up again. The base's structural integrity is holding – for now." And then, on the great model, figures of red light began to swarm towards the walls of Enigma base. "Dementors inbound. Wing Commander, you're up."

"Your heard her. Wraith Leader, engage those dementors – light em up for the Battery Commander," the voice of Light Cloudstrider ordered, as Selina saw the blue icons representing broom squadrons responding at once. "Havoc Leader, support the wall. Rogue Leader, keep the Dark Lord busy. We can't afford to let him get another shot at the base."

"Roger that, Commander"

"Roger."

"One distracted Dark Lord coming right up. Just one question, sir."

"Yes, Rogue Leader?"

"You don't mind if we kill him, do you?"

A startled chuckle.

"If you can, every one of us will drink a glass in your honor. But…stay alive, Wedge," the Wing Commander's voice said, more softly than Selina would have expected. "That's an order."

"First Company, Patronuses out – form a wall of light!" Ernie's voice came over the sigil. "Second company, stand by."

In the sky and on the ground outside Enigma Base, in the midst of a great storm, a battle for the fate of the Rebellion was joined.

* * *

In the comfort of the hangar, a battle raged as well, only this one was not being fought against anything as concrete as Dark Wizards and their minions. No, their battle was against time itself – the eternal predator which stole away strength, dreams, hopes, and lives. Each of those in Logistics knew that their colleagues – their friends – were out there fighting to give _them_ the time they needed to evacuate the base – and that the longer they took, the more of their comrades would likely die.

' _There are 501 of us in this base. 24 in each of the Broom Squadrons, 150 in 1_ _st_ _Wall Company, about 120 in 2nd Wall Company, 48 manning or protecting the Batteries, 106 in Logistics and of course, the five of us Commanders. That's a lot of people.'_

Could he save them all? Probably not, but he'd do his damnedest to save who he could.

"Since Second Company is currently unengaged, I want a quarter of them sent here. We could use the extra hands, and well, they'd be easier to pull out than the others," the boy said over the Command network.

"You want to pull troops off the wall?" Ernie griped. "But if we lose the wall…"

"The point of everything else we're doing is to buy me time to get our people out of here," Shinji countered. "And if I'm going to get people loaded on those carpets and sent out, I need them now, while they're not engaged."

"…fine. You'll have them."

"Anyone else, Logistics?" Selina's voice cut in, before either of the others could comment.

"Will advise, Commander," the boy said, before cutting the link and walking over to his subordinates, who had been working on pulling carpets out of storage. "Report, gentlemen."

"Currently, we have 10 magic carpets verified in good working order. 6 are being tested as we speak. 5 are quite damaged and in need of repair. And 13 have yet to be pulled out of storage," the tall, aristocratic voice of Malcolm Drake answered, as Mudbutton was running around directing things. "Ah yes, and we assembled 8 brooms prior to your order to focus on carpets, with 32 still disassembled."

"I see," Shinji noted, closing his eyes momentarily, thinking about how he could save time in the process. "We're spending too much time on testing. As long as they can stay in the air, we can use them. Cease extensive testing, move the people assigned to it to assembling brooms."

"Brooms?" Malcolm echoed. "But sir, you told us to focus on car—"

"I know what I told you, but we need broom escorts, and after thinking about it a bit, I'm not sure that the Wing Commander can actually spare anyone."

"…if you insist, sir." The blond was visibly scowling, as if he'd bitten into a particularly sour lemon. "Though I feel this is unwise. At least the cessation of testing."

"Why? We're not taking the carpets around the world," Shinji replied. "We just need to get them to the evac point, so our people can portkey out. We'll have the broom escort take the carpets back to base for another flight."

"Sir, all the carpets that are damaged can fly, it's just…"

"Just what?"

"The propulsion charms on a couple have been compromised. One won't hold stability charms at all. One is ripped almost in half, though we could try to use spellotape on it, and one's control charms were somehow scrambled. They'll lift off - and I guess we can have a broom tow each one, but..."

"Then we'll have them towed. What's the problem?"

"Sir, that will slow down the brooms, which might be fine if we were using Silver Arrows, but the only ones with those are the Broom Squadrons. The reserve has a few Moontrimmers, sure, but mostly, they're Oakshafts we managed to get our hands on. A solid model, good for endurance and handling in the wind, but not the most...speedy."

"Ah." Shinji had never heard of any of these models before, and so was willing to take his subordinate's word for their capabilities. "Even so, we'll need at least a few spare brooms before this is all over. Have the men testing the carpets work on putting the brooms back together instead. If a carpet can get in the air, we'll use it, even if we have to tow it to the jump point."

Malcolm took a moment before answering, choosing his words with care.

"For the record sir, I have...rather profound reservations to doing this, but...you're the Commander, and time is tight. Is there anything else you wish?"

"Yes, actually. Have a set of carpets – let's say 4 of them – be assigned to moving troops and supplies around the fortress itself. Let's grab some of Second Company, shall we?"

"We can certainly assign a set of carpets to shuttle people back and forth - I'm sure the Wall Commander would appreciate it, though just so you know, each carpet has a maximum theoretical load of 12 people."

"That's not—"

"I don't advise actually loading them down with 12 in this weather, however. I'd recommend 10 at most, and 8 if you want to be safe, and even then, we'll barely have room for supplies. With the damaged carpets, even if we got some of them working, I don't know if they'll be good for more than 4. 6 maybe."

"I see."

"…as you say then," Drake responded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before opening them again. "Our last Commander told us to turn the carpets themselves into Portkeys, set to activate as soon as escaped the area of effect of the Dark Lord's spells, since making Portkeys is a somewhat...magically intensive process. You want the carpets to not be Portkeys, then?"

"That's correct, yes," the boy from the east instructed.

"If you say so, Commander," Drake answered after a moment.

The aristocratic blond moved off to relay the orders, as the part-goblin came up to Shinji.

"What is it, Mudbutton?" the boy from the East asked.

"The men want to know sir, do we have plans for a flight yet?"

"Yes. We're going to pull out some of the Second Wall Company, since they're not currently engaged. Also, the squad protecting the Batteries, I think – we already have brooms in the air, I doubt they'll be adding much."

"As you say. And for this first flight, do you want to gather people in the hangar and launch the flights from here?" the part-goblin asked. "Or will you be sending carpets and brooms out to the battery troops and the Second Wall Company, instructing them to launch when they see an opening?"

"Bring them here. I'll coordinate with Selina and give the order to launch," the boy said decisively. "Is there anything else?"

"I heard something about brooms…?" There was a glint in the part-goblin's eye when he said this.

"The Convoys will have to supply their own escorts, hence we need more brooms."

"Very well, Commander," the part-goblin replied, looking much more animated now. "Is that all, or do you have any other instructions?"

"That's all for now."

* * *

Outside, amidst howling wind and columns of fire a hundred meters tall, upon which snowflakes crackled and hissed away into superheated steam, a battle raged. On the ground, a thin line of light held back an unrelenting tide of darkness as hundreds of Patronuses sought to corral and maneuver the darkest of the enemy's minions so that—

 _Whump!_

—they would be caught in the area of effect of the deadly alchemical mixtures the batteries were lobbing. Across the battlefield, a nearly solid wall of columns of black flames bore witness to the effectiveness of their stratagem so far, but it wouldn't last, as First Company was rapidly tiring.

In the air, a broom squadron of 20 Rogues traded spells with the Dark Lord, with red and green bolts, and now and then, arcs of lightning chaining from one rider to another as their enemy saw an opportunity. They were brave souls, each and every one of them, and they fought like lions, for all that they knew that despite their prowess, despite their skill and training and noted magical might, they could not defeat him alone.

When they'd first launched, they'd tried to out maneuver him, to surround him and strike him down as they would any other enemy.

That first pass had cost them four of their comrades, their lightning charred bodies plummeting into one of the alchemical infernos below. So now, they fought to stall, to draw his attention, presenting enough of a threat that he had to respond, but not committing to any one attack, so that he couldn't pit the fullness of his might against a fraction of theirs.

They fought for their friends. For their comrades. For those living and those that had fallen. For the cause – the Rebellion – and the hope of freedom from the Dark Lord's tyranny. For the hope of a better tomorrow for an untold many, they would lay down their lives today.

Wraith Squadron, emboldened by the sacrifice their brothers in arms were making, tore into their much less invulnerable foes with a fervor that bordered in fanaticism. The gleaming patronuses of the Wraiths slammed into the dementor horde from one side as the First Company kept them back from the fortress, as fiery death rained down from above, immolating one group of amortal creatures, then another.

Well, not immolating so much as imprisoning them within a cage of flames which ate away at the magic which sustained them, but it was same in the end. Dementors, after all, were created from emotions, from what happened as humans or other beings fell into despair. And like anything else, when cut off from the source of their sustenance and drained of what gave them form, they could be destroyed.

They could not touch patronuses, for patronuses were wrought entirely of hope and joy.

Some wondered why, given that Dementors were said to devour positive feelings, but that wasn't what they did at all.

They caused people to relive their most negative moments, weakened them, caused the darkness to bloom in the souls of wizards and muggles, on which they could then feast.

But a Patronus had no darkness within it. No seed of doubt or fear which could be amplified to blot out the light, as they were magical guardians born out of a desire to protect their far frailer conjurers.

And so, a patronus could not be corrupted.

The people behind them however – those were somewhat frailer, for all their faith in the righteousness of their cause and the competence of their Commanders

Along the wall, there were deaths.

Here and there, the defensive line faltered, and where it did, a wave of darkness rushed through – though those unfortunate enough to be swarmed by dementors turned themselves into human pyres first, trapping those which sought to feed on him at the cost of their lives.

And as for Havoc Squadron, they faced the Dark Lord's subordinates – the small Cadre of dark wizards who were coordinating the assault, and in a short, brutal, conflict, utterly wiped out their foes, showing no mercy, giving no quarter, as none would be given to them. They took losses yes, but nothing unbearable, not for the toll they'd exacted.

They would fight with everything they had, so that their comrades might live – that logistics might have time to do what was necessary.

* * *

Back in the hangar, Matou Shinji found himself appreciating the way his personnel bustled about, carrying out their orders to the best of their ability. It was quite…efficient, really, when they weren't squabbling over details.

Carpets were pulled out of storage, checked to see if they could least hover in the air, and put to use if they could. Carpets with holes or tears were patched with spellotape. Carpets with stability issues had towlines and brooms attached to them.

They needed the lifting capacity.

While he watched though, a group of about 30 personnel had begun to file onto the Hangar – troops from the Second Wall Company, who seemed torn between relief and anger.

Seeing them enter, Shinji made his way over to then, whereupon the troops fell silent.

"Coordinator!" One of them exclaimed on catching sight of him, saluting.

"We should be out there, helping our comrades," another muttered, even as they looked around. "First Company is good, but they're facing dementors, and I'm not sure how much longer they can hold out. If their position gets attacked…"

"Sir! What would you like us to do?" a third asked. "Do you want us to help with getting carpets up and running? Assembling Brooms for our flight? Or did you have something else in mind?"

"You will be helping me to assemble brooms," the boy instructed, with the others nodding. "After that, we'll see. You have your orders."

After dismissing them to their tasks, he contacted Selina, who he knew was looking on from above.

"Commander, how are things going?"

What he heard was not…promising.

"It's chaos out there, Matou. For now, things aren't too bad, with Rogue Squadron only losing 4 members keeping the Dark Lord busy, but that's not going to last. Still, between First Company, Wraith Squadron, and the Batteries, we've managed to set up a wall of fiendfyre that will keep the giants, dementors, and trolls at bay. Havoc Squadron wiped out the cadre of dark wizards that were laying siege to the barrier before, so they can't call for backup or support the dark creatures they brought with them. You have a flight about ready?"

"Just about."

"Shall we open the Hangar doors then?"

Great, reinforced things of stone, they blended in perfectly with the rest of the mountain, though once they were opened, the stealth field hiding their location, would no doubt fail – and the numbing winds would rush in.

"Not yet. I need more time – the moment we expose the Hangar to the elements, our rate of broom assembly and everything else slows down."

"Fine. Keep me updated. Enigma Actual, out."

* * *

Time passed, and as the battle outside raged, and casualties began to mount, the people of Logistics Command began to work faster and faster. Oddly enough though, it seemed that those working with the most zeal were the troops detached from Second Wall Company, to whom he'd assigned the job of putting together brooms.

' _That's a little weird.'_

It wouldn't have been, if he'd thought about it.

After all, one of the peculiarities about the Rebellion was that every member – including everyone at Enigma Base, down to the cooks and janitors, had been cross-trained in how to fly and maintain a broom. This was for several reasons: 1) to free up the elite broom squadrons from having to be the ones to go out to do maintenance duties in places where one would need a broom or carpet, and 2) because one could never be sure when one might need more bodies in the air, with many hoping for a chance to prove themselves worthy of the second.

Given the nature of the struggle against the Dark Lord, and the sheer disparity of force on both sides, pitched battles were rare. Daring raids, sabotage after infiltrating enemy ranks, and occasionally an evacuation or two were the order of the day, with the broom squadrons being crucial to the success of most of these.

So, Second Wall Company wondered if perhaps, given that they were being assigned to put together so many brooms, if they would be known as a Squadron, with one of them picked as Squadron Leader, like the legendary Commander Cloudstrider, who had pinpointed a fatal weakness in the Dark Lord's great super weapon and destroyed it.

True, they were using older brooms - 12 Moontrimmers and 12 Oakshafts, but it wasn't the broom that mattered. At least, not that mattered most. It was the rider. And they - all of them - were riders.

Shinji spoke with a couple of them about this, and on reflection, saw no reason this couldn't become a reality.

He just had to make a call…

"Patching you through to the Wing Commander," Selina noted as she made the connection, at Shinji's request.

"What's this about?" Cloudstrider asked brusquely, with the sound of wind rushing by quite apparent in the connection. "Do you need escorts for a flight?"

"How would you like a new squadron of brooms?" Shinji asked instead.

There was a grunt of surprise.

"You have enough brooms for one?"

"Almost enough for two, though I'll need what I'm not giving you to escort the carpets."

"I'll take 'em. If you have Moontrimmers, make sure those go into the squadron instead of Oakshafts."

"Already thought of that," Shinji replied, happy he'd anticipated something – though really, it was his subordinates that had done that.

"Well then, who's to be the new Squadron Leader?" Cloudstrider asked tersely, with Shinji hearing crackles, pops, and whistles that could only be the sounds of spells passing nearby.

"...you want _me_ to make the decision?" Shinji asked incredulously. "Wouldn't you be better suited—"

"Look, you know best, and you currently have control of the brooms. I'm a little busy right now coordinating things up here, so just pick someone. Preferably someone the members of this new squadron know and trust." There was a pause at that. "…I hope you don't plan to lead Twilight Squadron yourself?"

"Me, lead a squadron?" Shinji asked, scoffing at the thought. "I'd gladly command a Wall Company, or something else that needs a steady hand, but flying isn't for me." The boy grew quiet for a moment. "As for who I'd pick to command the new Squadron..."

There were only two options he could see – to have Lt. Mithran, _defacto_ leader of the seconded Wall troops be appointed, or to appoint the person who had been so enthusiastic about assembling brooms to begin with: the part-goblin, Mudbutton.

In the end, it wasn't that difficult a decision, since he only really knew one of them.

"Mudbutton, one of my lieutenants," Shinji announced.

"Splendid. Can I expect reinforcements immediately then, or will we be delaying for you to get a third launch up?"

"You'll have them as soon as I launch."

"Excellent news. Knowing we have reinforcements inbound will be helpful. Wing Commander, out."

The part-goblin, Mudbutton, noticing a brand appearing on the back of his hand, marked with the insignia of the Broom Squadrons, handed off what he was doing to one of his subordinates and made his way over to the Logistics Coordinator.

"Sir, what's going on?"

"Mudbutton. Well, Lieutenant Mudbutton, I should say. Effective immediately, I am reassigning you to take command of Twilight Squadron, made of the Second Wall Company troops. Once you launch from the hangar, you will take orders from the Wing Commander."

"Sir, are you..." the part-goblin asked, his eyes wide. "I...I was in charge of sanitation and maintenance at Enigma Base! Wouldn't one of the others be more—"

Shinji held up a hand to forestall any further protest.

"I've made my decision, Mudbutton. It's too late for me to go back on my word. Go rally your command and await my signal to launch."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the part-goblin said, with a stiff salute. "It's been an honor."

And with that, the diminutive ex-logistics member went off to give the newly formed Twilight Squadron the good news – with Shinji noting the exact moment when it was delivered, given the cheers that arose from the troops.

' _At least someone is happy,'_ the Japanese boy thought with thin smile.

"I suppose that makes me the _defacto_ second in command," the voice of Malcolm Drake commented, as he walked over, noting Mudbutton's excitement and the Twilight Squadron's...uncertainty about their new commander out of the corner of his eye.

"I suppose it does," Shinji agreed. "So, I have a question."

"Ask."

"What were you, before all this? Mudbutton was sanitation, and you…?"

"I was Enigma Base's Chief Healer."

"...Chief Healer?" Shinji echoed dumbly, his expression one of utter astonishment. "Why…how did you end up under logistics?"

"I'm not a front-line combatant, and under emergency evacuation protocols, all non-combatants are assigned to Logistics, so we can pull our forces out faster," the man explained. "It's not as if I can do anything about people being hit by Killing Curses or torn apart by Blasting Curses anyway."

"…you're right, I guess you can do more good here."

"I'd like to think so, anyway."

* * *

A handful of minutes later, the great hangar doors opened, retracting into the mountainside, with the chill arctic winds howling as they found their way inside.

"Launch!"

Two by two and side to side, the brooms flung themselves into the air, with their riders wringing out every bit of performance they could as they turned into the heart of the storm.

After them came a flight of three carpets, though they did not follow in the brooms' wake, angling off for the pre-determined point at which the anti-portkey jinx was no longer in effect.

These…well, lurched skyward unsteadily, shuddering in the wind, with their riders – and their one broom escort – hoping that they would be fine.

* * *

Whatever their fate though, everything was about to change for those on the ground.

Before the enemy had focused mostly on the broom squadrons, and the forward position, having little else to target, but with the hangar open, there was a new point of vulnerability, one that would allow the enemy to swarm the base and take out everyone inside.

The Commanders, busy with their own domains and with the needs of the moment, didn't think about this, with Logistics trying to pull together more convoys from some of their personnel and some of the exhausted 1st Wall Company, which they were beginning to pull back, the broom squads doing their duty to hold off the Dark Lord and his forces, the Wall troops holding the line, and the batteries firing incessantly to keep the area around the fortress too dangerous to approach.

At least, they didn't, until the Dark Lord managed to escape from Rogue Squadron long enough to swoop down and wave his wand a certain way...upon which the fiendfyre that had trapped the dementors was extinguished, allowing the dark creatures to surge towards the base like wave upon wave of liquid darkness.

Specifically, they began to head towards the open hangar door, through which they could sense hundreds of beings with very strong emotions.

Too late, Wraith Squadron turned try to interdict them, pulling back from the giants and trolls they were dealing with and casting their patronuses, but it was too little too late. Those on the forward battlements turned to add their patronuses to the mix, but—

 _ **FWHOOM!**_

—were unable to, as First Company's redoubt was shattered by an overly strong Blasting Curse from above, crushing the earth around them and killing all of them in a single explosion. Those who died instantly were the lucky ones. Many did not, with their injuries from the blast wave or from flying icy shards, severe enough to be fatal, yet not quick enough to be painless.

And from the sky…bits of broken brooms and white-hot ash rained down, as broom riders were turned to ash, and their brooms to mere cinders, a desperate counterattack led by Rogue Squadron serving only to bring the troublesome broom-riders within reach of the Dark Lord's spells.

Though…there were others affected as well.

"Report! Wing Commander, report!" the voice of Selina came over all Command channels. "Wing Commander!"

There was no reply, not even the howling of the arctic wind.

Light Cloudstrider, Hero of the Rebellion, was dead.

* * *

Hearing that a Commander had been lost, Shinji nearly gave into the desire to do something reckless: to either try his hand at being the hero of the hour and taking the Wing Commander's place, or to fall into a panic and order everyone to evacuate now.

(He also – very briefly – considered saving his own hide by handing over Logistics to Malcolm, while he took the next convoy out, but…he'd volunteered for this. Everyone was counting on him. _Selina_ and _Ernie_ were counting on him.)

 _'If I panic, or if I try to do everything myself, then it's the end.'_

Yes, they'd lose the base, but that wasn't anything new.

From the beginning, all of them had known how bad things would get by the end, had known that everything the broom squadrons and the wall troops were doing was buying time for him to get as many people as possible to safety.

That had not changed.

' _The only thing that has changed was that I've gotten some people to safety.'_

True, 24 out of a total of 501 was not anything to write home about, but it was a fair bit better than none.

"Steady. Let's keep those flights moving. We can't let those deaths be in vain," Shinji ordered, trying to push past his troops' shock and despair. "Everyone at Enigma base is counting on us. If we falter now, we will be betraying our oath."

Malcolm – and a number of others – saluted.

"Selina, is the airspace clear of enemies?"

"For now," came the terse reply.

"Then 3rd Convoy, away!" the Logistics Coordinator commanded, as once more, a flight headed off. "4th Convoy, make ready."

"Roger that."

"We're clearing this hangar. The rest of you, get ready to get into convoys."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

Outside, the battle raged on, with the tide of dementors now in and among what remained of the troops of 1st Wall Company.

"2nd Company, Patronuses away!" Lt. Lagrange ordered, trying to save as many of the veteran troops as they could, but in the chaos in the wake of the forward position's collapse, there was little they could do, no way to retrieve their fellows as they fell victim to the dementor's kiss.

"We're not going to make it," Ernie's voice rumbled. "We need to withdraw from the wall – assuming Logistics agrees. With so many enemies out there, we can't really hold them off. Not with as few troops as we have left. Battery, we need fire support – rain fiendfyre shells on our patronuses' location."

"...as you wish," came the quiet reply, as the dementors were once more surrounded by flames, along with a few riders who hadn't managed to get out in time.

Things were no better in the sky, where lives were being spent like water to delay the increasingly unamused – and increasingly vicious leader of the enemy forces, whose magic savaged the members of Rogue and especially Twilight Squadrons.

Wraith Squadron fared little better, given that without fire support, it was nearly impossible to fight an army of dementors in the air, especially when the amortal beings were focused on moving past them, with the giants and trolls the squadrons were no longer harassing hurling rocks and icy shards at their position.

Part of Havoc Squadron, seeing the plight of the Wraiths, turned and charged as one into the advancing cluster of giants, heedless of their own safety and survival, using Blasting Curses with impunity.

If they were going to die, they would die gloriously.

They would die defending the honor of the Rebellion.

* * *

"Selina, Matou, can we pull back from the wall?" Ernie hissed desperately into the sigil linking him to the Command network. "Dementors are swarming our fallback position. If we don't leave soon, we don't be able to leave at all!"

"You can pull back – just make sure Dementors don't make it inside!" the very harried voice of Matou Shinji growled.

"Go, go now!" Selina shouted. "Enemy reinforcements are arriving. _More_ dementors – and a cadre of Dark Wizards!"

As if to emphasize how hopeless things were, the base began to shake as Blasting Curses flew towards them, some stopped by dementors, some blocked by particularly large pieces of hail, and some by broom riders, though most struck the mountain itself, as bits and pieces were blown away, with some of the wall collapsing, and a score of Second Company's troops plummeting to their deaths.

It was clear that the troops needed to pull back, to get to the hangar – or wherever else there were carpets – or everything would be lost.

But who…who would he order to die? Who could Ernie Macmillan order to their deaths to save his own miserable hide?

"I…"

"Commander, I and a few volunteers will draw the attention of the Dementors, so the rest of 2nd Company can escape," Lt. Lagrange offered, with Ernie only able to nod. "Go well, and may the Light be with you."

"What's left of Havoc Squadron will join you, adding our wands to yours," the voice of Jessie, Havoc Leader. "At least this way, you'll hold out for longer. Draw more of the enemy's attention too."

And so it proved, with their courage and bravery allowing their fellows to retreat into the mountain, while they gave everything they had.

* * *

"I won't force you, but it's time to go, Selina," Shinji said, as he stood at the doorway to the Command Center. "Your job is done. All we can do now is to honor the sacrifice of everyone who died to buy us time."

"I…"

"Its time. Have Battery Command evacuate from their high position – they'll probably make it. Second Company will join as soon as they can, as will the rest of logistics. But first, you."

"I…alright. We'll do it your way," she agreed, though not before one final announcement. "To the broom squadrons – to Rogue, Wraith, Havoc, and Twilight. We will remember – and we salute you."

Then, and only then, she let Shinji take her hand and lead her down to the hangar, only to be surprised when he handed her off to Malcolm, who guided her to a waiting carpet.

"What about you? Aren't you…"

"Someone has to see this through to the end," the boy said grimly. "And the evacuation – this is Logistics' domain. Someone has to tell people when it's safe to launch."

"But…"

"I have a broom. It will be fine. Go."

Off she went.

Ernie, when he and what remained of Second Company arrived at the Hangar, was sent off as well, though only about half of _them_ made it, as the broom squadrons had been whittled down too far to cover for them completely, and the enemy spellfire was intense.

One by one the carpets left, until he was the only one left in the entire base.

And by then, it was too late, as dementors were spilling into the hangar.

' _Even so…I won't give up!'_

If he moved through the base, climbed to the highest point, then maybe – maybe…

But it proved not to be, for when the boy reached one of the batteries, there was a figure already there, with Shinji having no time to react before the world vanished in a burst of red light.


	18. Words with Friends

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 17.** _Words with Friends_

In the wake of the scenario's conclusion, Professor Quirrell thanked each of them for participating in it, applauding how they rose to the challenge and completed it, before asking what they thought and if they had any questions for him, with something like a smile on his face.

Selina, who had some experience with…crafted scenarios, had a few questions, mostly pertaining to why the choices had been presented as they were, and if it was at all possible for a group to gain a full 501 points.

"It is _possible_ , yes, if your Wing Commander happens to be a good enough flyer and duelist that they can disable the Dark Lord without any losses, or your Battery Commander somehow manages to strike him with an orb of fiendfyre," Quirrell replied. "That is to say, it is so absurdly improbable that I would first suspect whoever managed it of cheating somehow, and then, if I was convinced they weren't, I'd be writing to the Ministry about a prodigy who was the second coming of Gellert Grindelwald."

"Um, don't you mean Albus Dumbledore?" Ernie questioned, blinking. "Since he uh…" The blond Hufflepuff didn't really want to offend a teacher by correcting him, but…

"Ah yes, perhaps I did," the Defense Professor said indulgently. "My apologies for confusing the two. That's the trouble with writing a scenario based on an…alternative history."

"Oh, and was the Defense of Hos based on something in history?" Selina asked. She was fascinated by the past, after all, and all the things that had transpired within it.

"The Global Wizarding War, actually," Quirrell answered. "Or at least that's what its called, even though it mostly took place in Europe. The _Defense of Hos_ is a what-if scenario, set in a world where Grindelwald was either never defeated by Dumbledore, or where Dumbledore took Grindelwald's place, with the only ones left to fight against the Dark Lord's new order being a rebellion led by, oh…let's say a halfblood who refused to bend to knee to the Greater Good."

"And the sheer power the Dark Lord had?"

"The Elder Wand," Quirrell replied readily enough. "The greatest wand in the world, it is said, one of three legendary artifacts said to been crafted by the hand of Death itself."

"…I thought that was just a story," Ernie said, his forehead furrowing as he recalled "The tale of the Three Brothers" from _The_ _Tales of Beedle the Bard._ "There can't…there can't really be a wand that powerful, or a stone that brings back the dead, can it?"

"Mister Macmillan, as you grow as a wizard, you will often find that the truths you hold to be self-evident are mostly lies, while what seem fanciful tales at best, are completely true," the Defense Professor responded. "As such, the Deathly Hallows exist. As do other things believed to be tales today, such as wise and powerful beasts which can speak human tongues and use magic as grand as any wizard. It is just that their existence is…inconvenient for the Ministry to admit to."

"Ah…how interesting," Selina mused. "Is that why they're not recorded in the history books?"

"Yes indeed, because the histories we write reflect the people who write them, and the times they live in. None of it is…objective, you might say. With that said, are there any other questions?"

With the group staying silent, Quirrell chuckled.

"Then let me congratulate you once more, and give you your individual scores," the man said, turning to take three folded pieces of paper from his desk and handing them to the waiting students.

Shinji, excited to see how he'd done, unfolded his to reveal his score.

 **Zero.**

"Sir, I…" Shinji began, only for his voice to falter as he saw both Ernie and Selina looking fairly happy with their apparently non-zero scores. "Could I talk to you…in private?"

Hearing his question, Selina and Ernie had looked at Shinji with some concern, concern that was only amplified when they saw the jumble of emotions writ large across his face.

They themselves were mostly relieved to have finished – and more than a little exhausted, but Shinji seemed…confused and annoyed, to say the least.

"Mister Matou…?" Selina asked quietly.

"You two go on ahead. I just remembered something I wanted to speak with Professor Quirrell about."

"If you're sure, Matou," Ernie said reluctantly. "We'll see you in the kitchens, or…?"

"I'll be there," Shinji answered with a nod, with his teammates taking their leave as he did. Once they'd left, and he was quite certain they were out of earshot, the boy rounded on the Professor. "Sir, what was the point of all that?"

"The point of what, Matou?" Professor Quirrell replied evenly, his face empty of emotion. "You'll have to be more specific than that."

"The point of this...whole scenario. The way the scoring system was set up," Shinji clarified, irked that he had to explain at all. "What was the point of going through all that effort, only to get a 0, and have no chance for the prize?" he questioned, his irritation growing at the Defense Professor's pretended obtuseness. "We all worked hard – _I_ worked hard – organizing that evacuation. Managing all those people. And yet in the end, I get nothing for it? No credit. You might as well say my work is meaningless, despite how – if not for me – no one would have escaped the Dark Lord!"

Granted, over two thirds of the troops at Enigma Base _hadn't_ escaped, but the fact that some had meant something?

"So your complaint has to do with how, despite the work you put in, you alone receive no points?" Quirrell summed up masterfully.

"Yes," Shinji nearly bit out. "I don't think that's very fair, Professor."

But Quirrell only chuckled.

"Fair or not, that's life," the man said with a smile.

"...wh...at?"

If Shinji was confused and annoyed before, Quirrell's casual demeanor was only making things worse.

"You are upset because you now have no chance at winning the extra portion of Basilisk Skin for yourself, yes?" the Defense Professor reasoned, glancing at him. "Or perhaps I should say, winning it for someone else?"

"...well, yes," Shinji mumbled, looking down, as he'd not expected the Professor to be so...blunt about things.

"Admirable if so. But let us assess your actions, since you think what happened was unfair. You took a risk by staying to the end to coordinate the evacuation. If you'd managed to escape, you would have had the highest score of anyone on your team. But instead you were struck down, and so, failed to get out."

"Meaning what? Why shouldn't I get credit for what I did."

"Because in the context of that scenario, you would be either dead or soon to be, as there is no escaping the Dark Lord once he has you in his clutches," Quirrell explained. "As such, you would be unable to join the rest of the Rebellion and receive a reward for your efforts. Oh, I suppose they might honor the fallen Logistics coordinator with a medal or some other symbol of respect, or say pretty words about your bravery, but really, what use is a medal, and what use are pretty words, if one isn't around to enjoy the benefits." The man's smile grew sharp and bitter. "In the scenario, I was referred to as the Supreme Commander of the Rebellion, with you as one of my lieutenants who failed to return from his mission, despite making it possible for others to do so."

"So...?"

"The world may honor the fallen, as it honored Argus Filch with induction into the Order of Merlin, but such honors – such empty glories – mean nothing," the Defense Professor noted. "For how could titles, rewards, and recognition given posthumously mean a thing to someone already dead? They might mean something to those who survive them, but in time they too will forget. And so, because you died in the scenario, never mind if you were first or last or somewhere in between, your score is 0, because that is exactly how much influence you would be able to wield with the Rebellion due to the lives you saved. Exactly how much of any reward a dead man ever receives."

"…I see," Shinji said heavily.

"Note that I do not forbid you from being self-sacrificing," Quirrell cautioned. "Nor that I think that having comrades willing to sacrifice themselves is a terrible thing. You did well for your _team_ by choosing to stay to the end and helping as many others reach safety as you could. No doubt, had this been real, you would have won the respect and gratitude of those who served under you – those who owe their lives to you. But you would still be dead. Do you understand, Matou?"

"...I guess I'll just have to find a way to defeat even death then," the boy quipped snarkily, as Quirrell chuckled.

"See that you do, Matou," the man replied, with something like a genuine smile. "I do look forward to having you at the small gathering of minds I am hosting before the winter holidays. That is...if you will not be attending the Slug Club's annual Christmas party?"

"I won't be," Shinji responded, before frowning. "That is, I'll be at your gathering, Professor."

He owed the man enough, after all, and it wasn't as if he had been particularly keen to go to the Slug Club party, since he hadn't really enjoyed the last party the Potions Professor had thrown – not with Slughorn accusing him of murder (even if it was all allegedly in good fun).

The only part of that evening that had really been enjoyable was interacting with "Miss Lockhart", the young noblewoman with whom he'd developed something of a connection. But it wasn't as if he could count on her to be at the Slug Club party, given that she might choose to go to the informal gathering of minds – especially if she did well at the Defense of Hos scenario.

' _Not that I'm choosing what I want based on where she'll be. It's not like that. Really.'_

"Splendid," Quirrell noted. "This may be none of my business, but might I inquire if you will be staying at the castle for the winter holidays, or if you will be going elsewhere? There is paperwork you will need to fill out if the former is the case, and my own plans depend somewhat on those of my students."

"Well I…probably won't be staying at the castle," Shinji answered. The idea of remaining at Hogwarts for the winter holidays appeal to him, since he didn't think any of his friends would be remaining. Everyone had families – everyone had places to go to, or so it seemed.

"Oh? Going home then?"

"I, uh, no."

Shinji was unable to keep from making a face, as the one thing he knew for sure was that he really didn't want to go back to Fuyuki for the holidays, since that would mean dealing with his _sister_.

And as amusing as the look on Tohsaka's face might be if he gave her a chest of gems duplicated via Gemino, he would first have to obtain a jewel-quality gemstone, and that was not an...inconsiderable feat, considering how he had essentially nothing particularly valuable he could trade (except for perhaps the basilisk skin, but he wanted to hold onto that for now), no access to the Matou fortune, and certainly no way he could enrich himself financially at Hogwarts.

If he'd obtained a second portion of Basilisk Skin, then perhaps...

 _'It's useless to think of perhapses and what might-have-beens. I can only work with what's in front of me.'_

"The house of a friend then?"

"Yes, actually," Shinji noted, smiling crookedly as he remembered how Amber had invited him to join the Noel family at Exton Hall for Christmas, given that he was a visitor from a foreign land, and deserved a good first winter holiday in Britain.

In an ideal world, he might have stayed with Natsumi or Miyuki-senpai, but Natsumi hadn't invite him to stay, citing her family, though she did say that would be visiting Exton Hall at least once over the holidays, and Senpai…well, she hadn't mentioned much about her winter plans, save that she had family business to attend to in Japan.

' _Exton Hall it is then. Who knows, maybe I'll even pick up the basics of swordplay._ '

It seemed likely, given that both Amber and Phelan were enthusiastic practitioners of the sword arts, albeit with different styles, since Amber seemed like the type who would prioritize dexterity and grace, while Phelan seemed like he would prefer sheer force.

 _'Phelan...really belongs in some other world, where adventurers live and die based on the might of their blades.'_

His...friend had the gift of witchcraft, yes, but it was obvious that Phelan was less than satisfied with the magical arts he was learning, except for Defense against the Dark Arts, since in that class, they learned about dangerous beasts, practiced fighting them using scenarios Quirrell had crafted, and were able to challenge themselves by participating in exercises like the Defense of Hos.

He did wonder if that...enthusiasm for adventure was something Phelan had developed in his youth, and on thinking about how difficult it must be for Amber to put up with her brother and keep him from getting himself killed, his admiration for the girl shot up quite a bit.

' _Mm...that's right. If I'm going to be staying with the Noels over the holidays, I really should bring a gift suitable for the family. But what should such a gift be?'_

He'd have to think about it.

"Very good, Matou," Professor Quirrell said pleasantly enough. "Now if I recall correctly, your friends are waiting in the kitchens for you?"

"Ah, yes, right."

"I won't keep you then."

Shinji bowed.

"Thank you for the lesson, Professor."

"Not at all. It is a pleasure to have a student so willing to learn."

* * *

With all that on his mind, the boy let his feet carry him over to the Kitchens – along the same route he would take if he was merely headed to the Hufflepuff dorms. On entering, he found Selina and Ernie making requests of the house-elves, and—

' _Senpai…?'_

…Miyuki-senpai sitting at the far end of a table, speaking in quiet, intense tones with...Nigel, of all people, with two cups of tea untouched in front of them. And her expression...he didn't think he'd ever seen her look quite like she did now, with her attention completely focused on someone else, though it wasn't as if he knew why or what it meant.

 _'Do they…do they know each other?'_ he wondered. _'And why am I trembling?'_

Why was he indeed? And why would they? They were in different houses, after all, and it wasn't as if Nigel was some social butterfly. Indeed, Nigel mostly stayed in his room, outside of classes, or eating in the Kitchens, since he was still recovering from his year in the hospi—

 _'Wait_.' The boy's stomach felt heavy and cold as he recalled the words of Auror Trainee Tonks. _'Tonks…she said something about someone a heartthrob from Ravenclaw, who liked Mi—liked working with Miyuki-senpai. A Ravenclaw who got sick, after which people blamed Miyuki-senpai for it and did terrible things to her. No. No way. Nigel. Nigel was…? Nigel let that happen to—'_

The boy gritted his teeth, warring against himself as something dark and terrible flashed through his thoughts. He staggered, his vision swimming as he grew dizzy, his legs almost giving out…only for an invisible force to steady him with a gentle touch.

 _'Senpai...'_

Yes. It was indeed the work of Miyuki, who was looking at him with those amber-coloured eyes of hers, a touch of concern there, and for a moment, he nearly drowned in the intensity of her gaze, as he felt her touch – the touch of her mind rather, keep him upright.

It was the hardest thing in the world for Shinji to smile and shake his head, waving off her worry as if nothing was wrong, even as Nigel glanced over to where Miyuki's attention had shifted, and blinked to see Shinji standing there.

Shinji said nothing, despite the fact that he felt like screaming inside.

Nigel – he'd let all those things happen to Senpai, and yet he was approaching her again? What was wrong with the grey-haired boy? How dare he? How _dare_ he try and take Senp—try and get close to Senpai again, knowing what might happen? Hadn't she suffered enough because of him?

Yet outwardly, all that Shinji did was meet Nigel's eyes for a moment before very deliberately turning away and walking over to his team. The two greeted him as they saw him, with Ernie raising a mug of— _was that pumpkin juice of all things?_ —to him.

"To giving our best!" his fellow Hufflepuff proposed as a toast, while Selina pressed a cup of something steaming into his hand.

Something certainly not pumpkin juice, or he would have wept at the injustice and inhumanity of the world.

 _'Ah. Chamomile Tea. Better,'_ he thought, raising his cup and saying some general platitudes.

"Well done, everyone," the petite blonde said warmly, once they'd all had something to drink, and a pile of cookies fresh from the oven had materialized before them. "I'm glad I had the chance to work with the both of you."

Ernie blushed at this bit of praise from a pretty girl.

"Erm, it...it wasn't much, really," the pureblood Hufflepuff demurred. "It's really Matou here who deserves credit for saving as many people as he did. And volunteering to be the last one out."

"Yes, you were very brave, Mister Matou," Selina noted, with a brilliant smile that was dazzling to the Japanese boy. "Mayhaps we'll have the chance to work together in the future, brave paladin."

"P-paladin?" Shinji repeated, turning away to try and hide his reddening cheeks, as he felt his heart beat faster. "I'm no...I'm no paladin," he forced himself to say. And it was true. He was far darker than any true paladin would be.

"True, you did consider yourself more of a warlock, didn't you? Though that leaves the question of what dark power you made a pact with," she commented teasingly, with a shiver going down Shinji's spine at her words.

 _'She...she can't know about my abilities. Can she?'_

The boy found himself breathing more quickly as he set his cup on the table with a loud _thunk,_ his face going utterly blank as he stared off at the wall. With his self-control already on edge due to the way Nigel, the Ravenclaw Hearthrob was monopolizing se—was trying to talk to senpai again—he didn't want to, didn't want—

Shinji almost jumped out of his skin as a slim, delicate hand settled over one of his.

Selina's.

Glancing over at where their hands were touching, then over to her, he found that her expression was one both of curiosity and concern, though not pity, not like the way his _sister_ would always look at him.

' _She's…warm.'_

She held his gaze for a moment, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, before turning her mischievous regard to Ernie. "And you, Mister Macmillan? Did I ever ask you about which two you prefer of strength, intelligence, dexterity, wisdom, constitution, and charisma?"

"Constitution and...charisma?" Ernie hazarded. He'd completely missed the other attributes she'd mentioned, as he had been distracted by her eyes and her…her smile.

"Ah," Selina beamed. "A sorcerer, then? How appropriate for one from a long lineage..." she murmured knowingly.

"Are you…that sounds kind of like divination," Ernie muttered, raising an eyebrow. He'd heard she was a Muggleborn, so why did she…? "Do you, uh, do you have any other wizards in the family? A brother, sister, cousin…?"

"A brother," the girl remarked, favoring the blond Hufflepuff with a smile. "He's...an adventurer, who finds his joy in helping people and exploring strange places. He would...he and his friends would take me along on their adventures sometimes."

"Along on their adventures...? You…?" Ernie echoed, his eyes wide as his mind processed the implications of this piece of knowledge. "What's it like, being an adventurer?"

"Liberating," Selina replied, her smile becoming more muted, more...thoughtful, if still full of mischief. "There's nothing quite like leaving the staid old world behind to weave a story all of one's own."

"Heh, I guess I know what I'm getting you for Christmas," Ernie quipped.

"Oh, and what might that be, Mister Macmillan?"

" _Journeys with Jinns_ , the latest book from Gilderoy Lockhart, the greatest adventurer of all Britain - or so they say," the pureblood Hufflepuff noted. "He'll be the guest of honor at the Slug Club party, so I can even have him autograph it for you. Would you..." the boy trailed off, biting his lips as he noted how Selina was touching Matou's hand, before shaking his head, seeming to come to a conclusion. "Would you like to go with me? I'm...I'm sure he'd love to meet a fellow adventurer. That is...if you don't...if you don't have other plans."

The boy glanced over at Matou, who was quite confused why Ernie was looking at him. It wasn't as if Shinji had any sway in what Selina did, after all, or if he had any claim on her time.

"That would be wonderful! I'd love to come," the blonde beamed, with Ernie's face going so red that Shinji wondered if something was wrong with the other Hufflepuff. Perhaps his friend needed to go to the infirmary again?

"T-t-that's great," Ernie stammered nervously. "I, uh, should I go to Slytherin to get you, or..."

"We can just meet there, right?" Selina said plainly.

"Y-yes, that works too," the blond Hufflepuff agreed, a nervous, if somewhat dumb, smile coming over his features, not that Shinji understood _why._ "You...you're _both_ also...welcome to visit my house over the holidays."

"As much as I'd like to, I think my brother will be keeping me busy," Selina replied seriously. "Probably curious to see how formal studies at Hogwarts compare to life in Faerûn. Who knows...we might even go adventuring again!"

Ernie's eyes widened at this, with Shinji taking the opportunity to interject.

"...I'll see," he said seriously. "I'll be staying at Exton Hall over the holidays, so I suspect I'll be following the lead of my gracious hosts."

"Exton Hall, is it? So Lady Gainsborough invited you to join her at her family home?" Selina inquired, lifting her hand from his. "How forward of her."

"I-it's not like that," Shinji insisted, though he refused to meet her eyes. "She was just…she didn't want me to have to spend the holidays alone at school. Oh, and there was something about keeping Phelan out of trouble."

Selina snorted a most unladylike snort at this.

"Well, I suppose I can't blame her for that. Her brother is...certainly a handful."

"You're telling me," Ernie muttered, as he took a deep swig of pumpkin juice. The Hufflepuff had not forgotten that it was Phelan who'd gotten him sent to the St. Mungo's, after all. "Well, if she wants someone to keep Phelan under control...better you than me, Matou. Better you than me."

"Your loyalty is... _touching_ ," Shinji said dryly. "And here I thought you were supposed to be a Hufflepuff?"

"I am. But there's a difference between loyalty and stupidity, and nowhere is it written that Hufflepuffs are stupid enough to follow someone into a trap _twice_."

"...well, that's fair."


	19. Delusional Heartbeat

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 18.** _Delusional Heartbeat_

That night, Matou Shinji found his footsteps carrying him to the greenhouse #7 - the greenhouse set aside for personal projects, where he knew that Miyuki-senpai could often be found. While he had been speaking with his teammates from the scenario, he'd noticed Nigel getting up and leaving, his face as drawn and melancholic as ever - with Miyuki remaining behind for a time, her expression still quite unreadable as she sipped her tea, as if she was still waiting for something...

Had she—had senpai been waiting...for him?

Some part of him dared to hope that might be the case, though that hope had been dashed when another Ravenclaw walked in – this one at once more and less familiar to him than his Flying partner: Sialim Sokaris, the mysterious Alchemist of Ravenclaw.

The purple-haired girl had nodded vaguely in the direction of the team and nodded once, before making her way over to where Miyuki was sitting, with the older Hufflepuff standing and welcoming her.

 _'What. Why are they...?'_

Shinji had found his curiosity piqued and would have turned his full attention to the duo at the other end of the table, save that his teammates would have notice if he made himself obvious.

' _Maybe I can just listen in,'_ he'd thought, but... ' _I can't hear them_. When I try, there's just…"

He hadn't been able to describe it. It was like the buzzing of a thousand bees in flight, though less…threatening.

"Can you hear that?" he'd asked his companions, who simply looked at him blankly. "The buzzing."

The odd sound that had been keeping him from hearing the conversation on the other side of the room, though not the movements of the goblins, the crackling of flames, or other such.

"Are you alright, Mister Matou?" Selina had questioned, her slim fingers resting lightly on his shoulder. "I don't hear anything."

"…you're sure?"

"Did you hit your head in that scenario, Matou?" Ernie had asked, concern writ large across his face.

"No, I'm...I'm fine," Shinji had answered, turning his attention to his teammates. "I was just...just distracted, I suppose."

"Distracted? By what?" Selina had probed, though her smile seemed like she knew what – or rather _who —_ was the cause of Shinji's distraction, as she'd glanced over at Miyuki and Sokaris.

"Uh, just about what Professor Quirrell and I talked about," he'd offered, as he didn't want to admit what was really on his mind. He'd shared with them the man's rationale for the scoring system, and how Quirrell didn't think much of things like posthumous honors. "Basically, he wants us to think before we do something...too self-sacrificing."

"Makes sense to me," the petite blonde had noted. "If we were all selfless, the world might be a better place, but at the end of the day, if we didn't balance the needs and desires of others with ours, we wouldn't be around to enjoy this better world." She'd smiled slyly. "I'm not saying that we should munchkin our way through life, but it's no good to be railroaded by what other people want either."

"Munchkin? Railroad?" Ernie had echoed, his voice very uncertain that he'd heard quite correctly. "What does a train have to do with...anything?"

"A train runs on rails, and only on rails, unless something terrible happens, or you have a flying train and—" Selina had stopped, looking at Ernie, her expression almost…calculating. "Don't tell me the Hogwarts Express can fly?"

"Um, no, it...can't," Ernie had replied, swallowing at the intensity with which the petite blonde was looking at him. "Sorry."

"Ah," Selina had murmured, shoulders visibly sagging in disappointment. "Well, to be railroaded means you can only do what people tell you to do, without having any real choices."

"...you mean I wasn't supposed to just give up Logistics to Matou when he asked?" Ernie had questioned, glancing at the Japanese boy.

"...did you not want to?" Shinji had asked in turn, his tone somewhat defensive. He'd frowned at that – it was true that Ernie had seemed a bit reluctant at the time, but—

"No. I didn't," the other boy had answered after some time. "I know I'm not the smartest guy. I know I can do some pretty dumb things sometimes, but even I want a chance to prove myself. Not just-not just follow what you say, Matou."

"I...I'm sorry?" Shinji had offered, but it wasn't enough.

"I know you're...you're better than I am. You beat that first scenario alone, without any tricks like the rest of us used," Ernie had muttered, looking down. He'd glanced over at Selina. "You too. You beat the first challenge alone too. And I kind of admired that. I thought maybe - maybe if we worked together, I wouldn't...I wouldn't feel so...useless. Again."

"You're not useless, Mister Macmillan," Selina had commented softly. "Didn't you get the highest score of all of us in Hos?"

"Yeah, but I don't really deserve it," the other Hufflepuff had whispered. "If anyone, you should have gotten that honor. You were commanding everything, after all. And Matou was the one helping everyone escape, while I couldn't even save most of the Wall. So many people...so many just..."

The boy had trailed off, closing his eyes at the memory of seeing the forward position annihilated. The fear and dread inspired by the dementors. How he'd retreated time and time again – how people under him had died for him.

And yet he had gotten the highest score of the three of them? Why...? It didn't make sense.

"We couldn't have pulled off the evacuation without you, Mister Macmillan. Or the bravery of those at the wall."

"...if you say so."

The trio had continued to talk for some time, though Shinji had not been so caught up in the conversation that he'd failed to notice Sokaris passing Miyuki an ornate tome of some sort, while Miyuki-senpai in turn passed Sokaris a rather unremarkable pouch.

 _'Huh. I wonder what's in it?'_

Whatever the exchange had entailed, the boy hadn't gotten a chance to ask, as the business of the two had concluded soon after, while his team conversation/celebration/counseling session had lasted long into the night.

* * *

Which was why he was walking to the greenhouse now, bundled up in winter clothes as he followed the path from the castle to a building of glass lit from within by the soft glow of moonseed blossoms, and from without by the silver moonlight.

Within that greenhouse, he could make out someone's shape.

' _Senpai.'_

His heart beat faster as he recognized the silhouette of the beautiful raven-haired girl who meant the world to him, his feet redoubling their pace to the greenhouse and rapped _once-twice-thrice_ at the glass door.

He waited in the cold for what seemed like a small eternity as she bustled about inside, doing…whatever she was doing.

And then…

"Matou," a miraculous voice intoned, as Tsuji Miyuki opened the door of the greenhouse, clad in only a thin shift, her arms and face slick with sweat. "Are you well?"

"I..." the boy began, but his mouth failed to continue. "Uh, I…"

"I am in the middle of some delicate work," the older Hufflepuff continued, "but is there something I can help you with?"

"I...I just wanted to talk?" Shinji offered weakly, unable to think of much to say as the sight of his beautiful senpai dressed so...casually. Warm air wafted from inside the greenhouse, washing over the boy, who sighed at how pleasant it felt compared to the chill outside, which threatened to freeze his face off.

The raven-haired girl looked at him for several heartbeats, her expression unreadable.

"Come in then. Do close the door behind you." It wasn't so much a request as a command, and Shinji nodded, almost falling over himself to obey.

"R-right!" the boy said, as he followed her into her inner sanctum and stepped into what seemed like another world.

The air inside was filled with something like an eerie mist, rising from two bubbling cauldrons, with the diffuse light of the moon and the moonseed blossoms obscuring the details of what was within the space.

' _Except the book.'_

The very same one that Sokaris had given Senpai, which was next to one of the cauldrons, with a figure seemingly wrought of green smoke hovering above it.

 _'It smells almost like vanilla and cinnamon - or was it Senpai who smelled like that?'_ the boy wondered, but he didn't get the chance to ask before she moved to attend to the potion that was not being watched by the spectral form.

With nothing else to do, the boy simply took a seat at the one chair in the room, looking on as the older Hufflepuff bustled about, carefully filling a two and half vials with some cloudy purple liquid brewing in one cauldron – vials which she floated over to the one being watched by the specter, in which a concoction of glowing silver-green bubbled merrily away.

With exacting slowness, she added the contents of the vials into the full cauldron, stirring once counterclockwise for every half-vial she added, with the color shifting slowly from silver-green to bone white to rose-pink as she mixed the two together.

Shinji marveled as he looked at the expression of utter focus on her face, and the economy of motion with which she moved, the precision and grace she showed here even more to be admired than how she vigorously maintained her plants.

' _Though she didn't say she was a potioneer.'_

Just that she was working on a project to take the properties of potions and add them to plants, effectively creating a new magical species or two.

The boy started as he saw the girl reach out to him – though as something like a tea strainer floated from the desk over to her hand, the boy realized that perhaps she hadn't really been reaching for him at all.

And then his eyes widened as Shinji witnessed Miyuki taking something out of a hip pouch and placing it within the strainer, after which she plucked two moonseed blossoms from the vines on the inner wall, tucking one behind her ear, while the other was crushed and placed into the strainer.

 _'What is she...'_

But his words died unsaid as the boy saw the raven-haired girl lower the strainer into the cauldron, with light in a dazzling citrine hue blazing forth, shining with such intensity that Shinji was forced to close his eyes, and even then, he could see a pulsing, strobing flicker play across his eyelids.

Soon enough, though, the gloom fell once more, with Shinjji opening his eyes to find the potion the strainer had been dipped into was now a dull, watery black, and that the mist inside the greenhouse was gone.

And as the strainer was lifted from the brew, he saw—

 _'Those are...'_

Seeds, glowing faintly in iridescent hues.

"Senpai, what are...?"

"My ongoing project," the girl replied distantly, as the strainer returned to her hand. Tsuji Miyuki, closed her eyes for a moment as she felt the patterns newly woven into the seeds, before nodding and withdrawing a particularly large phial from a pouch secreted on her person, into which she stored the test vials.

"Which is...?"

"A surprise," Miyuki answered, sounding somewhat drained. "For the last year, I've done many experiments. This particular one is perhaps more ambitious than most. Though it isn't something that others know about quite yet."

"Ah."

"You had something to talk about?" the girl prompted, glancing his way.

"Ah...yes," Shinji replied, nodding quickly as he rose to his feet and backed away. "Please, uh, sit down, senpai." He gestured to the now empty chair. "That was...you must be a bit tired."

Miyuki raised one slim eyebrow.

"Perhaps a bit," she agreed, as she took his offer and lowered a seat. "Tell me, Matou, what brings you out to the greenhouse on a cold and lonely night like this?"

"Oh, it's not cold when I'm with you, Miyuki-senpai," Shinji responded, nothing the raven-haired girl's utter lack of response. "As for what I wanted to ask..." He wanted to ask about Nigel, to know what relationship senpai had with the grey-haired boy, but... _'I don't want senpai to think badly of me. I'm sure it was nothing.'_ So instead... "What happened between you and Sokaris?" he settled for asking.

"She is assisting me with my research," came the easy reply.

"I didn't know you two even knew each other," Shinji observed.

"I did not, personally, though Natsumi speaks well of her," Miyuki noted simply. "And in my brief acquaintance with her, I have found her to be quite…formidable at Potions. Strangely so, at that. Also, helpful, should a project take her interest."

"...well, I suppose she is that, yes," Shinji admitted. It was true that working with Sokaris had proved quite helpful to his knowledge of potions, as long as he could keep up. Still, there was a side to the purple-haired Ravenclaw most never saw, but to which Shinji was privy to, as he remembered all too well how she'd stood in front of his transformed self, with not a hint of fear in her eyes or her stance.

"She is also apparently on good terms with Wroxton, an old..." she paused, her lips pressing together in a thin line. "Friend is too strong of a word. Acquaintance, I suppose you could say."

"Oh?"

"He was only here for a month and a half before he fell ill," Miyuki explained. "We worked together in Potions, yes, and as partners in flight, but that was all."

Shinji felt a wave of relief for some reason, as a smile crossed his features.

"In any case, Sokaris and I have an...arrangement," Miyuki stated simply, without bothering to say what that was.

"An...arrangement?" Shinji echoed, frowning as he tried to decipher the meanings of that word, and failed, as there were too many possibilities.

"Yes. An arrangement where we help one another with various things that need doing."

"I see," Shinji said, though he really didn't. The boy shook his head. "I guess the other thing I wanted to talk about was the scenario that Quirrell put us through, and what he said afterwards."

The Hufflepuff boy explained how he had received no points for his defense of Hos, even though he had done the most work of any of them.

"That...and I'm worried I might have made Ernie upset."

Miyuki was thoughtful for a moment, before replying.

"Because you make decisions for him, in spite of his protests?"

"No! I mean...I guess so?" Shinji admitted reluctantly, suddenly finding his shoes to be the most fascinating things in the world. "I didn't want to make him feel bad. I just wanted a good score."

"Whatever we intend, it is what we do that matters, and how others choose to see it," Miyuki replied, turning to look at him with her warm, amber-coloured eyes. "There is no sense dwelling on intentions. You must deal in realities, no matter how painful."

"Senpai..."

"You may not have gained points, and may have lost a chance at a prize, but you have gained knowledge. Is that not more valuable, Matou-kun?" she asked him with a wry smile.

The boy nodded.

"Then was there anything else, Matou-kun?"

Matou Shinji gave some serious thought to his next words, though after a few heartbeats, he came to a conclusion.

"Well, if you're going to talk about painful realities," Shinji began, the corners of his lips tugging downwards as his mind outpaced his tongue. "...Miyuki-senpai, is there something wrong?"

"Hm?"

"I mean, if you don't want to say anything, that's fine too, but you've just been..."

He wanted to say distant, or _strange,_ though neither of those were really the right word.

"Distracted?" she offered, with Shinji nodding as it was close enough to what he had meant to say. "Perhaps so. If I have made you feel neglected, Matou-kun, I apologize."

"Oh, no senpai, you don't have to apologize to me!" Shinji said effusively, waving off the notion that Miyuki-senpai might have something to apologize for. "I mean, I'm the last person who you should apologize to. After..." He sighed. "After everything you've done for me..." His words were almost a whisper. "It's just...today, you seem so...far away, like you're somewhere I can never reach."

Miyuki looked at the boy for a long moment, almost as if she was assessing every bit of who and what he was, assessing his worth as a practitioner of witchcraft. No, as a living being.

"...I ask that you keep what I am about to say in confidence, unless I give you permission to do otherwise," she said at last, seeming to have come to a decision.

"I, um, yes. Of course, senpai! Whatever you want."

The older Hufflepuff raised an eyebrow at the boy's exuberance and eagerness to listen to her command, unsure what to make of it (besides noting the incredibly obvious fact that he seemed to have a crush on her).

"You should be careful about relying too much on someone who might not be around sooner or later," she cautioned, to all appearances good-naturedly.

"Well, of course, senpai," Shinji responded quite reasonably. "You graduate before me." He smiled slightly, though it was a somewhat uncertain expression. "Even I know that much." Though what a Hogwarts without Miyuki-senpai would look like...

"That isn't what I meant, Matou-kun," the raven-haired girl reproached him, her answer making the Japanese boy stiffen. "I mean that in the next year or two, I may well be gone."

For a moment, all was silent, with Matou Shinji nodding at first, before the meaning of what she had said hit him, and his mind and body froze.

 _'Senpai...may well be gone?'_

But how? How could that be? And…why? Miyuki-senpai was was brilliant, hardworking, dedicated – beloved by all the teachers. She was even hard at work on a special project that seemed...miraculous, at least to his young mind. Why would she...?

To his credit, "Why?" was a question he remembered enough to ask.

"My family is considering a return to Japan, due to matters related to the Tsuji Group," the older Hufflepuff offered after a moment, after noting the haunted, desperate face of Matou Shinji. "And, given my...unfortunate experience with this institution, they would like me to go with them."

"Go with them?" Shinji repeated numbly. "To Japan, you mean."

"Yes."

"But…why...?"

"That I may be in a better position to understand the workings of the Tsuji Group," the raven-haired girl replied simply. "And that I may be seen as a viable candidate for inheriting my family's holdings. If I am never seen, then obviously I was hidden, no?"

"I suppose? But what's all this about candidates and holdings?" Shinji repeated.

"Suffice it to say that the dealings of adults are complicated indeed, for all that they enjoy their plays and other distractions from reality," Miyuki said wryly. Something like a smile danced across her lips briefly, but it died only moments after it was born. "I believed I mentioned that I was going to Japan for the holidays?"

"Yes?"

"I do not believe I mentioned where I was going."

"Ah..."

"Would you like to know?" she asked, in the low, nigh conspiratorial tones of someone offering a secret.

Shinji nodded.

 _"Mahoutokoro."_

The boy's eyes widened as he thought back to the City Beneath the Earth, the geofront hidden beneath Kyoto, and the wonders it contained.

"Ah. They...you might be going to _Mahoutokoro_ ," the boy said in a hush, his eyes wide and his mouth dry.

"At the least, I am being given a tour. And a test," Miyuki commented dryly.

"Then this..." Shinji gestured to the iridescent seeds.

"A challenge, you could say, and a demonstration of what my magic can do," she murmured, shaking her head. "Hold out your hand, Matou-kun."

"Huh? Well, ok," the boy blinked, but did as he was told, as three of the seeds – things that Miyuki-senpai had made with her own hands – floated from their phial to his hands. "This...you're giving me these?"

"Yes. With the danger you get into, I thought these would be a fine early gift for you."

"I see," Shinji asked. "Thank you so much, senpai, but…what are these? What do they do? "Besides being seeds, I mean. I didn't recognize either of the potions you used...?"

"It has two purposes," Miyuki explained. "Consuming one will protect you from a spell meant to harm you, no matter how powerful. When that spell is intercepted, however, the seed will lose its power, and you will lose the protection it grants."

"Grants, huh?" the boy repeated. "But how does it work in the first place?"

"By taking the blow in your place," the girl murmured. "It, in essence, dies for your sake."

"And how long..."

"The protection of a single seed is effective for about 8 hours after consumption, or until it is consumed, whoever comes first."

"So, three seeds-"

"Equates to one day of protection, yes."

Shinji had to blink back tears. Senpai...senpai really was thinking of him all this time, even though he didn't expect anything so wonderful. But Miyuki was speaking once again.

"Its second purpose," she continued, "is to purify grounds that have become...tainted by magic. Or by grudges."

"By purify, you mean...?"

"As the plant grows, it draws in the magic of the land around it, good or bad, returning it to a colorless power..." the girl laughed faintly. "Or that is what it is meant to do, at least. There are...complications to be dealt with."

"Complications," Shinji echoed.

"You wouldn't understand, Matou-kun," the older Hufflepuff said softly.

"Perhaps not, but…Sokaris would, wouldn't she?"

"Perhaps," the girl remarked, her smile enigmatic and hypnotic and tragic all at once.

"...I see." Shinji bowed, very, very low to the older Hufflepuff. "Thank you for trusting me with all this, Miyuki-senpai. And for the present. I'll treasure it."

"Don't treasure it so much you don't use it when you need to."


	20. Boomerang Effect

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 19.** _Boomerang Effect_

For Matou Shinji, the last few days before the winter holidays seemed to pass by in a haze, with classes, weekends and everything else blurring together, seemingly unimportant in the wake of Miyuki-senpai's revelation that she might be leaving Hogwarts. Might be leaving him behind...

Was this a recent development? Or had this been something in her mind ever since the day they'd met and all the other days they'd been acquainted?

 _'Did you know...this entire time...? Is this why your smile is always so sad, Senpai?'_

He found that he didn't know – and that he didn't think anyone else would, given that for all that she listened to people's secrets and concerns, Tsuji Miyuki wasn't really the type to share her thoughts with others.

' _Except me. She told me…'_

His heart swelled at the thought, even as the thought of her just vanishing to a place he could not reach brought a fresh stab of pain to his chest. True, it was only to Japan, not to some other world, but for a first year at Hogwarts, Japan might as well _be_ another world.

' _Senpai…what would make you want to stay?'_

That too, he did not know – and could not even begin to guess, given that only now was he beginning to realize just how much of a mystery the beautiful older Hufflepuff really was – and how much more that made him want to know her – to know more about her.

With that in the forefront of his thoughts, very few things registered in his memory.

Not the lecture, certainly. Not what he ate. Not his assignments.

Oh, and not his Occlumency exercises either, as his concentration was utterly shot.

Fittingly, the two occurrences that actually stood out in his mind both began with a missive delivered by an owl, albeit on different days.

The first was a package from Fuyuki he received on one of the very rare occasions he had chosen to dine in the Great Hall, a rather heavy parcel containing a banded willow wand about 10 inches in length and an ornate tome titled _A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter._

' _Huh. Who sent these? This doesn't seem like grandfather's style.'_

Curious, he opened the book to find a note addressed to him, which read thus: " _These belonged to your mother. Now they are yours. – Matou Byakuya_."

The boy froze, the sound of his pulse all he could hear as read that hated name.

 _That man_.

The man who had _pretended_ to be his father, who had _pretended_ to care about him until that he found out that the worthless Tohsaka bitch was actually his _replacement._

How _dare_ …how dare _**THAT MAN**_ send him something now?

He….

He…

With a wail that would make an elder banshee envious, the boy fled, faster than anyone thought possible, knocking over two of his classmates in the confusion.

"…what happened to him?" someone from another table asked, not sure what the hell had gotten into the Japanese first-year. "He fail a test or something?"

"Maybe his girl dumped him? Bit young for that."

"Probably sick. Maybe he got hit by one of the Weasley twins' pranks, poor firstie."

* * *

When the boy awakened, he found himself shivering on the ground, looking up at the starlit sky in nothing more than rags.

' _What…am I doing here?'_

He tried to get up, but he couldn't put any force into his limbs. Worse, every bit of him hurt, like his veins had been pumped full of molten lead.

' _Why….how…?'_

His mind was fuzzy too, filled with cobwebs and shadows, and…

"…I lost it, didn't it?" he said aloud, with the white-hot agony that shot through him as he did making him feel like curling up into a ball, save that he couldn't spare the energy even for that.

"Indeed," a voice spoke from just out of his view. "Truly, an obscurial's power is not to be underestimated."

' _Who…?'_ No. He knew that voice. ' _That's…Sokaris, isn't it?'_

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later, as the moon-drenched figure of the quiet Ravenclaw girl strode silently into view, a vial of shimmering green-gold held between the fingers of one hand, and something like a book in the other.

But why…? Why was she here?

"Preventing hostile wildlife from taking advantage," the girl stated, in answer to his unasked question. "And to aid in your recovery."

'… _what.'_

The words coming from his potions partner's mouth seemed utterly absurd, though he didn't resist she made her way to his side and crouched by his head, before pouring the green-gold potion down his throat.

As she did, he swallowed, mostly because he didn't have the energy to spit, and if he didn't do something, he would drown. As the icy cold liquid touched him, he shivered, shuddered, quaked, thrashed about, inhuman sounds tearing their way out of his throat as the heat inside him built and built and built.

' _I…I…'_

He couldn't. No. He…

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was a world of shadow and blood, of ebon flames dancing under a crimson moon.

* * *

Blearily, Matou Shinji opened his eyes, blinking the weariness from them as he wondered why he felt so sore, and his skin so _hot_ and sensitive, as if he had been dipped in scalding water, only to be removed just before he boiled to death.

' _What happened?'_ he wondered, groaning as he stretched…only to freeze as his eyes came into focus, allowing him to see the scene of utter devastation that surrounded him. _'Wait. Did I…did I do this?'_

In the hollow around him, lay fallen trees torn in twain, with great gouges in the ground as if something had melted the earth.

The scattered limbs and parts of spiders as large as horses, with the stench of roasted hair and the rancid odor of waste.

The broken pieces of a troll – and its club.

A blackened corpse of something that might once have been a horse—no, a unicorn, given the horn protruding from its head…and the silvery liquid pooling around it.

' _Was this…did I…?'_

"Yes," came a cool voice, with Shinji glancing behind him to see Sialim Sokaris, who expression was unreadable.

"…then…" the boy whispered, his eyes widening with horror. "Everyone…everyone knows?"

If people – if the school had seen him become a monster and wreak such devastation, then he was finished. No doubt a Ministry strike force was already on its way to contain him – or kill him, and—

"No."

"…no?" Shinji echoed dumbly, the single word successfully derailing the negative spiral of his thoughts.

"Those in the castle have not noticed your actions," Sokaris explained, though Shinji couldn't see how that might be.

"But…!"

"You are deep within the Forbidden Forest, a place of many oddities. A disturbance of this scale is unlikely to be investigated for some time," the purple-haired girl noted solemnly, as she walked past him over to the charred corpse of the unicorn. She knelt before the pool of thick, silver blood around it and proceeded to fill it with a flask.

"…what are you doing?"

"Collecting a useful ingredient."

"…useful?"

"A substance said to be able to keep an individual alive, no matter how close one is to death," Sokaris elaborated, as she proceeded to fill up several more vials.

"Could you…give some to me, then?" the boy asked, as something like that sounded like an incredibly powerful tool. "I mean…I don't really want to die any time soon."

He couldn't see Sokaris' expression, as she was facing away from him, but the quality of the air in the clearing seemed to change, just a bit.

"You would be unable to bear the resulting curse, Matou Shinji," the purple-haired girl replied matter-of-factly. "Save perhaps if you were in your obscurial form, which is not unlike a curse in and of itself."

"Then why are _you_ —"

"My nature renders me immune to such curses."

' _Huh? Does she mean…being a metamorphmagus?'_ Shinji wondered, though he decided that it would be unwise to press her. As someone who had been raised in a family of magi, he knew that in some cases, knowledge was not worth pursuing, given the lack of benefit for the given risk, and he had a feeling that this was one of those cases.

"I see," was what he settled on, instead. Then, a different question came to his mind. "How did _you_ find me, then, if the castle didn't notice what happened? And…" He trailed off, remembering something about a vial of green-gold. "Did you…heal me?"

"Indeed."

"Why?"

"Your death would have been unpleasant for Suzuki."

Suzu—Natsumi?! What did Natsumi have to do with—

"Suzuki Natsumi asked me to find you, following your departure from the Great Hall."

"…oh," Shinji whispered, hanging his head. "I made her worry, didn't I? I'm the worst."

"You presume much, Matou Shinji."

Sokaris' voice was far closer this time, and he looked up to find himself staring into a pair of beautiful golden eyes.

"Sleep now," the purple-haired girl whispered, and his body responded, as a wave of drowsiness washed over him, and slowly, gently, his consciousness fled.

* * *

When Matou Shinji opened his eyes, he found himself in the Hufflepuff Common Room, sitting on one of the overstuffed couches in front of the fire, with a book laying open on his lap, and a willow wand beside him.

' _Huh? I don't remember falling asleep here…'_

Nor did he remember opening a book, but he supposed he must have done so, because he was here, wasn't he, not lost in shadow?

' _Though…while surrounded by darkness, I perceived the oddest dream. A dream of a crimson night and cerulean moon, of curses and blood…'_

Curses.

Perhaps he had been studying too hard, or the news about Miyuki-senpai had disturbed him more than he thought, since he didn't think it was _A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter_ that had given him this nightmare.

Though…what was it about again? Resurrection magic, or…?

Leafing through it, the boy found himself intrigued less by the book than by the notes in its margins speculating on the origin of the Deathly Hallows, the link between the afterlife and the Other Side of the World, and whether judicious applications of practical necromancy might be used to make Binns' class less boring.

' _Heh. Whoever owned this book had quite the sense of humor,'_ the boy mused, though he got the impression that the previous owner hadn't been joking about using necromancy on Binns. Perhaps he'd read it over in more detail over break, since he thought he might have some time, if one of the Noels didn't drag him along on a grand adventure or two.

The boy sighed, closing the book as he stretched.

' _How long have I been here?'_ he wondered, and found he didn't know, given that through the windows, he could just see the sun beginning to rise. _'Huh. Weird. And now that I think of it, where did I get this book in the first place?'_

The answer lay beside him, in the form of a note, atop which sat a dark, banded wand of willow _._

" _Matou, you may find the knowledge written in this tome to be useful,'_ it read in a precise, elegant hand. _'As well, this wand may be more useful than your own for transfiguration.'_

The sender had signed it as Sokaris, with Shinji blinking as he wondered why she would give him such a gift. It wasn't as if he had done anything to deserve it, after all.

* * *

On receiving his written invitation to Quirrell's last gathering of minds for the fall term, Matou Shinji had wondered if this one would be different from the ones that the Defense Professor had put on during prior months, given that the gathering was to occur at the same time as the Slug Club's Annual Christmas Party. And upon reading it, his suspicions were confirmed.

' _The guest list is the same, but…_ '

…the attendees might not be, given that the invitation had requested that those who were unable to attend for whatever reason pass their invitation to someone else, as a group of 8 people would be required for the evening's activities.

' _The Professor has never said that a specific number was required before. I wonder what he has in mind.'_

He wondered who would be there, given that he knew that Ernie and Selina would be off at Slughorn's Christmas Party. Perhaps Phelan as well, given that Gilderoy Lockhart was the guest of honor at that particular gathering.

' _That, and what do Westerners even do for Christmas?'_

He really had no idea, as it wasn't as if Christmas was a particularly big holiday in Japan, as that was mostly something for close friends and c-couples, opposed to the New Year, which was celebrated widely, with family, friends, and even acquaintances, as the grandest holiday of the year.

The other oddity about the invitation was that it specified a dress code: that attendees should wear something nicer looking than the usual Hogwarts robes, but easy to move in.

 _'I guess I'll have to wear the robes Miyuki-senpai made for me,'_ he thought with a slight smile, even as he felt his cheeks heat up, remembering how Miyuki had created the garment especially for him, as well as how the last party to which he'd worn it had turned out. _'Things will be better this time.'_

Or so he told himself, until the day of the event came around at last, with the boy finding himself hesitating outside Quirrell's classroom, with an elegantly dressed Natsumi – wearing something quite different from what she'd worn at the last party – standing beside him.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, glancing at him worriedly. "You haven't been yourself lately."

"I…there's just been a lot on my mind," Shinji answered, shaking his head. "Sorry for making you worry."

"Mm. I heard you will be with Amber this Christmas?"

"Yeah, she invited me to Exton Hall, since I don't really have anywhere to go," the boy said with something like a smile. "It will be…nice, going somewhere besides Hogwarts." He glanced over at the chestnut-haired girl. "I hear you'll be visiting?"

"Yes, the day after Christmas," Natsumi replied.

"It will be good to see you."

"And you," the Hufflepuff girl noted quietly. "Shall we see what today holds for us?"

"Let's."

This time, when they entered, the saw the room set up much like the first time, with a few small tables scattered about the room, and a buffet of delicacies and treats lining one of the walls. This time, though, each of the tables were just large enough for two people to stand around them, with plates, and the attendees were different.

Amber, Sokaris, and Nigel were present – and were people they had expected, in all honesty. But the others – the Weasley – what was his name? Rand? Ron? Paul? Donald? – a brunette who he thought might be a Slytherin, and...Granger were not.

 _'Why are they here?'_ he wondered, though he knew quite well why they were, because someone invited them. Though, really, the question in his mind was who invited Granger, as the sight of her made a surge of anger and revulsion well up within him.

For a moment, the boy felt dizzy, felt his nails digging into a suddenly balled fist, felt the roar of blood in his ears as the world began to shrink and his vision began to swim, before Sokaris glanced over at him, and as their eyes met, he flinched back, his mind – and vision – clearing as the image of her moon-drenched figure, with fingers slick with silver blood appeared in his imagination.

The boy shook his head, clearing it of the odd image he'd seen.

'… _what the…? It's that weird dream again.'_

He regained his composure just in time for the door to open, with Quirrell sweeping into the room in blood red robes.

"Good evening," The Defense Professor said without preamble. "For tonight's events, we will be working in pairs, since Christmas is a time for...companionship and goodwill. And since it is your evening, I would like for you to take the next few moments to choose someone to work with from among your fellow guests. Someone not from your House, ideally. After that, you may ask your question for the evening before we proceed to other...festivities."

Shinji glanced over at Natsumi as Quirrell made his unexpected announcement, only to find that the chestnut-haired girl seemed almost amused, if anything – like she'd expected something like this. She caught his eye, and with hers, wordlessly suggested that he should go over to Amber. Shinji was a little confused, given that he thought she would have preferred working with Amber herself, but smiled crookedly and nodded. It was best to do what a pretty girl suggested, after all, and it seemed Natsumi was going to work with Sokaris anyway.

 _'Well, I suppose they do get along well...'_ he thought, as he made his way over to Amber and bowed gallantly, to which she responded with a textbook curtsey, before both straightened.

"Lady Gainsborough."

"Mister Matou."

"Would you do me the honor of being my partner?" the boy asked with his most charming smile, extending his hand to her. "At least for the evening?"

"I'd be delighted," the brunette replied, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, and with only a moment of hesitation, she reached out and took his hand.

 _'So warm...so that's what it feels like to hold a girl's hand,'_ Shinji thought to himself, his cheeks reddening somewhat at how her fingers felt twined with his. Up until now, he'd only felt them on his arm - over his clothes - or resting on the back of his hand. This...this was something on a whole other level.

"Oh, do you have some idea what the event will entail?" the boy questioned quietly. "Since you and Natsumi got the highest score in the Defense of Hos, I mean?"

"Ah, but that would be telling, Mister Matou," Amber replied enigmatically, a mysterious smile flitting across her lips. "Though I suppose you'll find out soon enough anyway."

"I suppose so," Shinji conceded, shaking his head, idly noting the pairs the others had gotten into.

Natsumi, of course, was paired with Sokaris.

The Slytherin Girl was paired with Nigel.

And Granger was paired with that...what was his name...Weasley? The one fellow who had cleared the "Surviving the Crash" scenario, though they didn't seem to be on particularly good terms.

 _'What? Did he do something to annoy her? Is she just horrible to boys? Or maybe she's just a singularly unpleasant person…'_

The bushy-haired brunette's face snapped upwards, with the girl meeting his eyes with a stare of pure hatred. It made him wonder if Granger had something very wrong with her, something twisted and broken inside that—

 _'...hah, its not as if I have room to talk about being broken. Not when I...'_ The boy glared all the fiercer, willing Granger to back down – though she didn't.

"Come on, let's get something to eat," Amber said, her voice interrupting his dark thoughts. "It's not nice to be staring at other girls in front of your partner."

"Eh," Shinji began, but his protest was ignored as she pulled him to the buffet table, which today featured—

"...huh, Japanese food?" Shinji couldn't help but murmur out loud, his mouth going dry at the sight. And quite a bit of it too. Crisp, puffed up gyoza, platters laden with various cuts of meats, fresh udon, a steaming cauldron of very aromatic broth. And of course, the traditional food that Japanese people ate for Christmas: Fried Chicken. "I..."

"You're welcome, by the way," Amber interjected. "

"Sorry?"

The girl chuckled.

"As the highest scorers on this second challenge, we were asked to choose a menu for tonight's gathering. So I hope you don't mind what Natsumi and I suggested?"

Her fingers tightened just so, and Shinji's flush deepened.

"N-no, not at all," the boy stammered, swallowing as he glanced from Amber to Natsumi to the food and back to Amber. "I... _thank you_."

"No need. I just thought, you might have been homesick, since you've been acting strange lately."

The boy felt his heart skip a beat at her words.

He wouldn't say he was _homesick,_ because he didn't miss the nest of rot that called itself the Matou household, but…was this what it was like to have someone care about you? To have someone who wanted...to make you happy? To...

 _'I'm being ridiculous. There's no way. She's...just being nice.'_

"Thank you all the same," he whispered, his face almost entirely red. "Do you...do you like...Japanese food?"

"It's a rare treat," Amber replied with a charming smile. "Beats the pants off of British fare, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Shinji agreed with a warm smile.

And among the drinks, wonder of wonders, there was actually tea – in chamomile, green, and earl grey variants, and none of the foul pumpkin juice stuff anywhere to be seen.

(Water and warm butterbeer were provided for those who did not care for tea, but well, Shinji didn't much care what such plebeians preferred).

 _'I'm...happy.'_

He'd made the right choice in coming here, as opposed to going to Slughorn's Christmas Party. At least, he thought, glancing over at Amber, the immediate company was better...even if he had to suffer Granger's presence as well.

Soon enough, their plates were all laden with food, and they made their way to one of the tables, with the others following suit. They didn't speak too much, as they were mostly watching the others, but they found themselves glancing at one another every now and then, with Shinji feeling his cheeks get just a bit warmer every time their eyes met.

 _'No. This is bad. I have...Senpai. I...'_

But whatever his mind said, his body said another, as the sweet poison of youth flooded his veins, making him feel as if everything was going to be ok.

"I assume you have questions?" Quirrell asked, once everyone had helped themselves. "For those of you who are new, I traditionally allow one question apiece, on any topic."

"Why just one question?" the redhead asked, with the Defense Professor nodding.

"As a former Ravenclaw, I believe that knowledge is a very precious thing, second only to time, which is irrecoverable," Quirrell replied, with a wry smile. "And to ensure that my students think wisely about what they want to ask, and learn the value of thinking beforehand, I limit what I provide freely to one question apiece. That, by the way, was yours, Mister Weasley."

Ronald Weasley looked as if he was about to say something, but for once in his life, said nothing, just nodding.

"I have one, Professor," Shinji spoke up, as the Defense Professor glanced over at him.

"Yes, Mister Matou?"

"After taking your challenges, I've seen how the skills we learn at Hogwarts might not be enough for what we face in life, since we won't always have our wands," the Japanese boy began, "So, do you have any recommendations for activities or hobbies we could do to better train our minds and bodies, to prepare ourselves for…other arts?"

"Not a bad question," Quirrell admitted. "In terms of general recommendations, I highly suggest that anyone who can should study Occlumency, as the mind is ultimately the greatest weapon – and weakness – any wizard has, though it seems you have already begun to make strides in this area."

Shinji could feel Granger's eyes boring into the side of his skull at this.

"Aside from that, you could try swimming in the Black Lake. I understand there are certain spells and potions that help to build endurance and negate the effects of the cold, so it would make for a good bit of exercise." The man chuckled. "Or of course, you could write to a friend in another country and ask to trade bits of knowledge. I find such things to be handy, now and again."

Another hand shot up.

"Miss Granger, a question?"

"Just a quick one, Professor," the bushy-haired brunette replied, her voice incredibly even. "What is the best way to stop an obscurial?"

"Befriending the host," the Professor responded with a small smile. "If not that is not possible, of course, then killing the host before they realize you are a possible threat. After all, should the obscurus emerge, then unless one happens to be...exceptional at one's arts, or has a team of say…twenty Aurors available, then one's destruction is nearly assured."

...twenty Aurors? But Quirrell had stopped him from rampaging, by himself…so what did that say about the Professor's level of ability?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bit of movement, with Quirrell calling on the grey-haired Nigel Wroxton.

"Professor, did you ever hear the tragedy of Nicholas the Wise?" the second-year Ravenclaw inquired, with the Defense Teacher smiling crookedly at this.

"I see that Mister Matou has been talking to you – or perhaps your colleague Sokaris," the man in red intoned. "I am quite familiar with it, yes. In fact, I am in the midst of writing an adaptation of it for the spring. It has been too long since our school has had a bit of…drama, no?"

"And how ends the tragedy?" the purple haired girl inquired, with Quirrell giving her a curious look.

"Well, even if I wanted to tell you, which I don't, the end has yet to be written," the Defense Professor responded. "No doubt I will find some time to work on the plot during the holidays, should you wish to speak to me then."

"Aside from your classes, do you offer personal tutoring?" Pansy asked, a topic of interest for Shinji, and some of the others in the room.

"Provided one is willing to ask, and shows an aptitude for it, then yes."

Then there was Amber's question: "Sir, if I may, what do you think of Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Quirrell went very, very still for a moment, with Shinji getting worried he was about to do something very dangerous when…

"He is a successful enough adventurer, and a former classmate of mine," the man noted. "That is all. Any other questions?" A last hand went up. "Yes, Miss Suzuki?"

"Sir, what is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?" the chestnut-haired girl questioned, with Quirrell actually chuckling.

"An African or European Swallow?" the man quipped wryly, as Natsumi bowed, as if conceding the point. "Oh, and twenty points to Hufflepuff for the sheer amusement value of that. I believe that _is_ all of the questions for tonight?"

Seeing that it was, the man nodded.

"Then I will reveal the first part of the activity for tonight," Quirrell intoned dramatically, snapping his fingers as a drawing of a frozen lake and people skating atop it appeared on the chalkboard. "Have any of you ice-skated before?"

The group was unanimous in shaking their heads.

"Wonderful, then this will be your chance to see how the _Book of Spells_ can do more than inflict terrors on you," the Professor said quietly. "Remember, however you do, that magic is at its best when it is subtle – when no one notices its effects. Tonight, you will all be learning to ice-skate, something that the Muggles of the Western World often enjoy doing over the holidays. And to keep things interesting, I am adding a twist." The group waited for him to continue, knowing that he would if they remained quiet long enough. "Well, since none of you will ask, the twist is that one person of each group will be blindfolded, with the other having to guide them – to teach them how to skate." The man chuckled. "Consider it an exercise in trust. Now, if you wish to be the blindfolded one, placing absolute trust in your partner as they do what they wish with your body, please raise your hand."

Shinji, to his own surprise, was the first to do so, with the boy catching a faint hint of pink on Amber's cheeks before a blindfold appeared over his eyes as Quirrell snapped his fingers.


	21. Slipping and Falling

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 20.** _Slipping and F_ _alling_

The others made their choices, with Quirrell chuckling as he saw how reluctant some were to be blindfolded, quite the contrast to how Shinji had just volunteered so suddenly. Neither Granger or Weasley inclined to trust each other - not that this was a surprise, given what had happened during the Surviving the Crash scenario they'd gone through together. Parkinson and Wroxton's reluctance seemed not to come from a lack of trust so much as a bit of the usual embarrassment that two young people of the opposite sex might face. And for Sokaris and Suzuki...neither had been eager or reluctant, possibly because they were a group of two girls.

...though even someone like the Defense Professor would admit it was surprising that it was the purple-haired girl who had decided to be blindfolded in the end, as he thought she was the type who liked being in control.

With that, Quirrell flipped open the Book of Spells, and before the eyes of those students who were not blindfolded, the world changed, with the classroom falling away to reveal a frozen lake under a breathtaking sky, with all of them standing on a fresh carpet of virgin snow, with skates in their size laid out beside them.

...and because the man was not overly cruel, each of them were also dressed in fashionable, warm winterwear.

 _'Well then, let us see what they will do next, shall we?'_

* * *

For Matou Shinji, it was a strange thing indeed to experience the world changing all around him, without being unable to see any of it due to the strip of thick fabric covering his eyes. He could feel it though, the warmth of the classroom replaced with the brisk chill of the winter air on his face, the way his breath misted as it left his lips. He could hear it in how some of his peers gasped or whispered in delight, or how the soft echoes of voices on stone were gone, replaced with the crackling of what must be a fire. He could smell it in the way something delightfully nutty was being roasted - perhaps over that very fire, and in how the usual musty smell of Hogwarts had given way to the scent of pine and powdered snow.

And yet, there was one constant.

Amber's warm, delicate fingers, twined with his, her breath hot against his skin as she leaned against him and whispered in his ear, making him gasp as a frisson of delight raced down his spine.

 _'I...'_

It made him wonder how her lips would feel on his ear, on his neck. Or how her fingers would feel on—

 _'No. Bad brain. I...I can't. I have to focus.'_

To focus, as she described to him what the world looked like around him, telling him of the lake and its dimensions, of the fire - and of their classmates and how some of them were reacting.

"Let's get our skates," she said, after she was finished, tugging him along towards a destination she clearly knew of. "I know you can't see, so I'll help you. I promise to be gentle, since it's your first time," she whispered breathlessly.

Shinji swallowed, his traitorous mind painting a very different picture for his fevered imaginings as his entire body went red.

"I—" the boy tried to speak, but his mouth and throat were dry - so very dry.

"Shh," Amber murmured, placing a finger to his lips for a moment. "Don't speak. You'll ruin things. That, or draw too much attention, and Granger is already staring at us – well, at you." There was a pause, and then perhaps the most outrageous words he'd ever heard spilled from lips. "Think she's jealous?"

Shinji nearly fell over laughing at the absurdity of his partner's remark, with the girl chuckling at his reaction. Hence, neither were paying close attention when the boy tripped over a pair of skates and _actually_ fell over, pulling Amber down on top of him.

His head struck the ground and the world went white, stars appearing in his vision.

It hurt. The ground was rough and cold and wet, quite the contrast to how the front of his body felt hot, making him want to pant. Not that he could, as his lips – the hottest place of all on his body – had been sealed, or at least were resting against something soft…

No. No way. It couldn't be...

Almost afraid of what he might find, the boy simply brought his free hand up and about, gasping as his fingers experienced for the first time how soft a girl could be. Her shoulders, her neck, her silky hair, the arch of her ear, her cheeks, her...

The sensation was gone, with Shinji finally realizing what it was.

'… _her lips.'_

Somehow, when they'd fallen on each other, they'd ended up—ended up—

His mind froze.

 _'K-k-k-kissing?'_

His heart pounded frantically in his chest, racing out of control like a frenzied team of horses stampeding across vast plains, with nothing he could do working to calm it down.

 _'I'm...I'm...'_

Indeed, with each passing moment, he was becoming more and more strange, as senses besides touch registered.

Smell…and taste.

She didn't really wear perfume, but the scent of her – the scent of the breeze and of something like honey – surrounded him, much as the taste of her lingered on his lips.

Strawberries. She'd tasted of strawberries. And cinnamon.

She. He. They. They had...

"Are you alright?" her voice spoke at last, with every bit of him infinitely aware of her closeness. Was it just him, or did her voice seem...almost shy? "Since we're here, and you're sitting already so...let me help you."

The boy thought to say something, to reply, but the words wouldn't come.

And then he felt a tugging on his pants.

 _'What.'_

No...not his pants. His shoes. She was taking off his shoes, her fingers brushing against his sensitive feet, if only through the thin fabric of his socks. He almost flinched.

"Matou. Don't move yet. Let me finish," she whispered, with Shinji's treacherous imagination rendering a very, very different scene that he was very glad no one could pluck from his mind. Slowly, hesitantly, she tugged off his shoes entirely, trying to guide his feet into new ice skates, a process that seemed to take longer than strictly necessary as they worked together to help his feet slip right into the holes of the shoes, shoes which tightened around him once he was all the way inside.

' _Something's wrong.'_

It was like he had a fever, like every bit of him she touched was spreading some kind of poison that would soon reach his heart. The boy almost wept, as her touch was making him strange. As she moved, something was beginning to well up inside him, something big, something that almost scared him—

And then her fingers left his feet, as she stepped away, the absence of her touch leaving him unbearably cold.

' _What? Where? Where did she…?'_

She hadn't gone far away, not really. She'd just wanted to put on her own skates, the boy reasoned, but reason didn't mean much in the face of the sudden lack of her, and the raw urgent _need_ that welled up in him.

' _What on earth? Why…? Why am I?'_

"Can you stand? On your own?" her voice asked from beside him.

"I think I can?" Shinji squeaked, feeling very grateful for winter clothing, as they hid the way his pants had tightened uncomfortably. Yet between his…posture being off, and not being about to balance on the blades, he couldn't.

"Fine, let me help," Amber murmured, taking his hands and letting him lean on her for support as he got to his feet, with the boy almost stumbling and knocking her over – though this time she managed to brace herself, such that he only ended up draped over her, his body twitching as his head rose up, his mouth opening as he looked to the sky, before slumping forward once more.

It took a great deal of effort to keep upright, since his legs seemed…limp for some reason, and his head was utterly blank from the heat of her...

"T-thank you," the Japanese boy said after what might have been only moments, and what might have been a small eternity, squeezing her hands gently as he slowly extricated himself from her…embrace? Either way, he marveled at her warmth. He...except for the one time that senpai had given him a lap pillow, he'd never been this close to another human being before. Well, to a girl before. "I'm so–"

"Come on, let's get to the ice," the girl replied faintly, stepping back and letting go of one of his hands. " We're here to have..." She paused, seeming to swallow. "We're here to have fun, right? And to learn how to skate, right?"

Shinji, knowing better to go against her when she was like this, just nodded.

"…right," he whispered.

In that moment, there was nothing in the world so real as her hand clasped in his.

* * *

About an hour later, Professor Quirrell asked all of those who had attended the party to demonstrate how well they'd learned to skate individually, thankfully removing their blindfolds beforehand. Shinji – well, he thought he did reasonably well, since it was his first time, though he didn't have the same grace as someone like Sokaris, who moved across the ice as if she'd been born to it, or say, Amber, who all but danced across the frozen lake.

' _A rough dance, but a dance all the same.'_

Which was more than one could say of Granger, whose movements were stilted and rough, with the girl being visibly tense as she tried not fall over, or of Weasley, who had, after attempting some mad stunt on Granger's suggestion, ended up leaping into the air and spinning about, only to crash down onto the ice what looked like an incredibly painful position.

'… _ouch._

Natsumi and Pansy had done about as well as he had, and Nigel begged off from demonstrating due to his lack of stamina.

Seeing all of this, Quirrell smiled slightly, and had then proceeded to announce the second exercise for the night.

"I imagine that since you have all had a chance to work together over the last hour, that you have come to understand each other well," the man intoned. "As such, I will give you a final test for the evening. Should you pass it, I will be offering you a special prize – in addition to the presents I have gotten each of you for Christmas."

The man snapped his fingers, as blindfolds appeared on both those who had originally been blindfolded and those who had not.

"You will all be heading back out onto the ice, with an aim of identifying your partner from earlier this evening. This might sound simple, but to make things somewhat more challenging, you will not be able to see – and you will not be able to speak," Quirrell noted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I will lead you to the ice one at a time. Any questions?"

Shinji, experienced at seeing loopholes as ever, asked what would happen if someone _did_ speak – or tried to, anyway, as his voice was gone, and no sound left his lips.

"Ah, none then. I will have music playing near here. Once you think you've found your partner, both of you should follow the song to the edge of the lake, and we will see how you did. Oh, and if three songs pass and you have not found your partner, consider yourself to have failed this part of the exercise."

With that, the Defense Professor led them out onto the ice and set them loose, to see what he would see.

* * *

' _The scenario is highly unfair,'_ Shinji thought to himself. Not that this was exactly anything new, given what Quirrell had made them face before, and least here, there was no risk of experiencing a painful death. _'Still, if there is a big prize, I guess that makes sense.'_

He wondered what the prizes would be as he skated slowly across the ice, moving just fast enough to stay on his feet as he listened for the sounds of others skating along – and for which song they were on.

So it wasn't particularly surprising when the boy collided with someone who was barely moving at all. Sadly for the other person, they had been going in the other direction, and so, Shinji's knee ended up slamming into the other's crotch as they pushed off from one another.

Shinji managed to stay upright.

The person he'd bumped into, however…

'… _uh…sorry Nigel,'_ the boy thought as he heard the characteristic sound of someone taking a spill on the ice. He was less sorry for making the other boy fall than for kneeing him in the groin, which as a fellow male, he knew hurt like the dickens.

He slowed as he heard someone else approaching him to his left, reaching out his hand as another slapped against his, and two came together, spinning as one.

' _Hm…is this…?'_

It was obviously a girl, since Nigel was flat on the ice somewhere, but who was it? And how could he tell?

' _Ah, right, hair!'_

Each of the girls wore their hair differently, with Granger's hair being loose and bushy, Natsumi wearing her hair in twin-tails, Amber wearing her hair like a braided crown, Pansy having hers in a short bob, and Sokaris wearing her long, purple hair in a simple ponytail.

He reached up, his hand finding the other person's face and moving back, tracing the arch of the ear and finding wav-

' _Crack!'_

The boy toppled as the other _struck him_ , knocking him to the ice as she pushed away as if he'd tried to do something unspeakable to her.

'…that _was Granger, wasn't it?'_ Shinji thought bitterly, shuddering with revulsion at having been so close to his hated enemy. But a song had finished now, and he had to keep going, so keep going he did.

He ended up skating close to a third person, who barely touched his fingers before letting go and moving away.

' _Natsumi, maybe? Whoever it was doesn't really like being touched, I guess.'_

And then made his way to another, whose movements were fast, confident, dance-like. Approaching this one took some negotiation, but this time, when he took her hand, his body recognized the sensation of the hand he'd been holding all night, and as they stilled, he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

The other squeezed his hand tightly, pulling him slowly in the direction of the song.

They reached the edge and then stepped off to the shore, just as the third song came to an end, and the blindfolds disappeared.

On the shore, Shinji found himself hand in hand with a rather red Amber – who he had to admit, did look rather fetching in that color. Close by, Natsumi was standing next to Sokaris.

Nigel was laying on the ground alone.

Granger was alone on the ice, her face white from something like anger or shock.

And Parkinson and Weasley, who had been skating the side of the lake together, jerked away from one another as they realized who they were next to.

"Two teams have passed this particular challenge, it seems. Congratulations."

The frozen lake vanished shortly after that, returning everyone to the classroom, where true to his word, Quirrell handed out a number of presents.

"First, the ones each of you get simply for attending, and for giving your best," the Defense Professor intoned, snapping as a pile of bundles appeared.

To Amber Noel, he gave a set of magically-resistant, self-sizing, self-repairing, travelling clothes cut from a material that seemed almost like basilisk skin.

To Natsumi Suzuki, he gave an enchanted penknife wrought of goblin-silver, with attachments that could open nearly any lock, untie any knot, or grow cold in the presence of those with hostile intent.

To Sialim Sokaris, he gave a small pensieve, the size and shape of a snuff box

To Shinji, he gave a Cast-a-Spell Kit, a simple practice environment for new spells.

To Hermione, a set of bracers that would resist blade or spell.

To Pansy, he gave a locket imbued with cosmetic charms, giving her the ability to make small adjustments to her appearance easily.

To Nigel Wroxton, he gave an enchanted pocketwatch that keeps track of one's schedule, and could estimate time to known destinations – a pocketwatch with enough capacity for a dose or two of girding potion.

And to Ronald Weasley, the Defense Professor presented a voucher for a Nimbus 2000, the latest racing broom to hit the market – a gift which had the boy's eyes going wide in surprise and disbelief.

"I do hope you enjoy these gifts," the man announced. "They are, after all, things that I thought might be suitable for you after seeing you all at work this term. It is a teacher's greatest joy to have students who are willing to learn, and certainly you prove yourselves both willing and able."

He'd dismissed most of them after that, with takeaway bowls of katsudon for all of them, even as he asked those who had successfully completed the second exercise to remain behind.

"Truly, you have done well. Better than I expected, in fact," Quirrell noted with a small smile. "I have dismissed your peers as I did not want to evoke any…groundless jealousy. It is best when people part on good terms, no?" He chuckled. "Who would like their gift first?"

Amber, daring as ever, stepped forward, with the Defense Professor glancing at her knowingly.

"Given that I've heard of you, I do believe I will give you _this_ item," the man quipped, unwrapping a heretofore invisible bundle to reveal a slim goblin-silver rapier in a crimson lacquer sheath. "I had originally meant to give it to your brother, but…I don't think he'll complain, do you?"

"Not since I won one of his presents in a bet anyway," Amber replied, receiving the sword gratefully.

Shinji, who was beside her, glanced meaningfully at Quirrell.

"To you then, Mister Matou, a rather handy haversack, constructed using a series of extension charms that are both undetectable from outside, and render the contents much lighter. Like a Mokeskin pouch, it is enchanted so that only you can remove items you place in it – unless you allow someone else to do so, that is. Further, you have but to think of the item you wish to retrieve, and it will come to the top of whatever is packed into there."

"Oh?"

"Within is an enchanted notebook, which crafts illustrations from the owner's imagination when one writes," Quirrell noted. "Picture it in your mind as you open the top flap."

The boy did so, his eyes widening as a lovely volume came to his hand.

This, he handed immediately over to Amber.

"…thank you for the evening," he murmured, his cheeks flushing as their eyes met. "I...thanks."

"I…there's no need. Really," she said, pushing the book back towards him.

"Please. I want to," the boy insisted. "Just think of it as me being selfish if you want."

"…ok."

She took the notebook without further protest.

Sokaris, who stepped forward after that, was given a small set of two-way mirrors and a pair of small boxes which were enchanted so that items placed in one would appear in the other.

"We will discuss the other matter over the break, yes?"

The purple-haired girl nodded and stepped back, leaving only Natsumi, who wondered what magical wonder she would receive.

To her surprise, the man instead produced a black box from his desk, which he opened to reveal...

"…this is…"

"A vintage 1950 Micro Precision Products 3-Cell flashgun," the Professor noted with a small smile on his face. "Or the handle of one, anyway. And before you ask, yes, it has been _slightly_ modified from the stock variant."

"That is…"

"You recognize it, don't you?" Quirrell asked.

Natsumi nodded, her eyes fixing on the cylinder of black and chrome she saw there.

"I rather thought you might."

"Is it…?"

"Fully operational? Yes, from a certain point of view."


	22. A Knotty Situation

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 21.** _A Knotty Situation_

Matou Shinji dreamed, and in the dream, he found himself seated on a picnic blanket on top of the Astronomy Tower, looking over the moon-drenched lands of Hogwarts. In one direction, the Forbidden Forest stretched on into the mountains. In another, the path to Hogsmeade, where the train would soon come to bring him back to a land without magic.

 _'And yet it isn't quite the moonlit world I know, is it?"_

"Hm, is there something on your mind, Matou?" a voice murmured from beside him, with Shinji turning as a beautiful girl pressed a saucer of tea into his hands.

"Just thinking, that's all."

"That much is obvious," came the rather dry response. "The question is what are you thinking about?"

From high above, the moon washed out the colors of the world, making everything a pale silver-grey, as if it had forgotten the colors in which it was supposed to be painted. The greens and browns, yellows and purples, reds and blues, the tint and hues of life.

There was so much in the world he didn't know, which he yearned to know. And yet...

...knowing could be so painful.

"Just...this and that," the boy replied evasively, not really wanting to talk about it.

The two were silent for some time after that, sipping tea together under the moonlight, and then...

"What is your favorite color, Matou?" his companion inquired of him, her calm voice startling the boy.

"Huh? That's a bit random, isn't it?" the boy quipped, glancing over at the girl beside him and flushing at how, in the light of the moon, she seemed so…ethereal. So delicate. So very…otherworldly.

"Hm? Is it so secret you won't tell me?" she questioned, her eyes regarding him evenly.

"Well, no," Shinji admitted with a sigh. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. _"If you really want to know, my favorite color is black,_ " the boy said quietly, opening his eyes as he took in the beautiful features of the young woman sitting beside him. "It reminds me of your hair, Miyuki-senpai, which is beautiful, like everything else about you. What's yours?"

The expression on Tsuji Miyuki's face was mostly unreadable in the moonlight, though a particularly astute person might detect a hint of melancholy.

"Black as well."

"Because it is like your hair?" Shinji teased, though his words fell flat as she didn't really react.

"Black, like all-embracing darkness in which the stars are held," the older Hufflepuff murmured, as if he had not said anything, as she looked out over the silver lands of Hogwarts. "Like the color of the human heart. Or at least...the color of mine."

"...senpai..." But his voice failed him, as his breath was stolen away by how beautiful she was - and how lonely her proud figure seemed in the moonlight. "I...you're not..."

Why...? Why was she saying this? For the person who had accepted him to call herself black-hearted was...

 _'It's too cruel.'_

"A monster?" Miyuki supplied, seeming to read his thoughts, as she smiled sorrowfully. "Even when I let you grow attached to me? When I listen to your secrets without sharing many of my own? When I will inevitably leave you behind, in spite of how you feel?"

"How I...how I...feel?" Shinji echoed, the last word coming out as something like squeak as he felt his heart pounding in his chest. "W-what are you talking about, senpai?"

The raven-haired Hufflepuff turned and looked at him, really looked, as if seeing through every facade, every excuse, every protective layer with which he warded his innermost thoughts.

"Pretending ignorance does not suit you, Matou-kun, but if you insist on playing this game, so be it," she murmured as she turned away, looking up at the stars twinkling in the firmament. "Even so, the moon tonight is beautiful, is it not?"

"Yes," Matou Shinji replied, looking not at the moon, but at her shoulders and back. "Beautiful would be the word."

"Hm. Will you always think so, I wonder?"

 _"I..."_ Shinjibegan putting shape to his thoughts, but before he could answer, the world around him shattered, as cracks shot through the breadth and depth of it, and everything broke apart. The castle beneath him. The lands spread out before him. The sky above him. And...

 _ **"Senpai!"**_

The scream tore itself from his throat as the boy bolted upright, his blood pounding in his chest as he reached out his hand towards...towards empty air.

 _'Huh?'_

 _He was sitting in bed, having moved so quickly that he'd nearly hit his head on the bunk bed, his blood rushing in his veins, his breathing ragged, a terrible expression on his face._

That...all of that had been...a dream. Yet it had felt so real...

The brisk chill of the night air. The glow of the moonlight. Senpai's gentle warmth and voice.

The world breaking apart around him. Senpai...senpai falling from the Tower, slipping beyond his reach forever.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. So why...why was he crying?

 _'I...I...'_

In spite of how the dorms were heated, Matou Shinji shivered. Today, he and many others would be leaving Hogwarts for Christmas Holidays, with senpai going off to Japan for several weeks, and him wintering over at Exton Hall – the ancestral home of the Noel family.

 _'I wonder. Will it really be ok?'_

The boy found that he didn't really know, and that grappling with the uncertainty of it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

* * *

Four people sat in a private compartment in the Hogwarts Express, as the venerable train, kept in good repair after its long-ago theft from the factory in which it had been made, made good time from Hogsmeade down to Kings Cross, from which those who had spent so much time together would split once more, each to what awaited them over the holidays.

 _'It seems like only yesterday I was riding the train to Hogwarts, after arriving in Britain all alone. When Miyuki-senpai and Natsumi first approached me and asked if I was alright.'_

Because he met them, he wasn't alone anymore. He wasn't alone - and he knew that someone would accept him for who he was, no matter what he did, or what he became.

 _'Even if...even if senpai might be going far away.'_

Even now, the dream he'd had the night before lingered with him, and he found himself watching the raven-haired girl as she elegantly poured tea into four gleaming teacups – cups that they'd created together, with her transfiguring a napkin into an elegant vessel of porcelain and him duplicating it for her using the _Gemino_ spell.

' _It's nice that we…made something together.'_

Sometimes Matou Shinji cursed at how simple of a boy he was that he would smile so at Miyuki-senpai's praise, and be so happy just to do something small for her, so long as he could stay by her side. Other times, he thought perhaps it was best he was so simple, lest, like Icarus, flying too close to the sun, he would plummet to his doom.

"I didn't know you could do that, Mister Matou," Amber had noted after seeing his spellwork, her eyes full of curiosity as she glanced between him and the cups. "That's not something we learned in class, is it?"

"It isn't," Natsumi confirmed, as she looked over at Shinji with a warm smile. "He was already able to do it from the first time we met."

"Huh. That's right, you do come from a magical family," Amber said, her bright green gaze meeting his grey, as she looked over him appraisingly. "Though Natsumi didn't mention you were already able to do magic before Hogwarts."

"Mou...well I don't tell you everything, Amber," the chestnut-haired girl pouted.

"Oh? Even after all our time together, Nats?"

"I have to have some secrets," Natsumi quipped in a voice full of mischief. "After all, every girl does."

"Hah," Amber snickered. "Even the quiet ones, huh?"

"Especially those."

The two shared a _look_ and knowing smile, as Miyuki placed steaming cups of tea before each of them, with the fragrant aroma filling the room – and bringing Matou Shinji a sense of peace.

' _It feels…like home.'_

Like the concept of home, anyway, not the actual, dysfunctional home which waited for him back in Fuyuki.

"Have you been well, Amber?" the older Hufflepuff asked as she looked over at the copper-haired girl, her tone as gentle as ever.

"I have, Lady Tsuji," Amber replied demurely, with...was she _blushing_? "Thank you for asking about someone like me. And you?"

"Things proceed according to my expectations," Miyuki responded, her elegant features betraying no sign of what she felt. "For the moment, I have no complaints."

"So, you don't make Miyuki-senpai call you Lady Gainsborough?" Shinji asked, glancing over at Amber. "Even when you do it to everyone else?"

"I don't make Natsumi call me that either," the young noblewoman pointed out, with Shinji acknowledging that with a nod. "Bit of a mouthful when you live with someone, you know. Speaking of which, it's too bad I'm not in Hufflepuff with you again, Nats."

'… _that's right. They were roommates once.'_

"Mhm," Natsumi agreed, chuckling just a bit. "Those were fun days, even without magic."

"The best," Amber noted, with the two sharing a rather meaningful _look_ between them that Shinji had no idea how to even begin to read. "You, me, and Lady Tsuji, all against the world."

"We did alright, just the two of us, after she went to Hogwarts. Though it _is_ nice to all be together again," Natsumi murmured.

"Just so," Miyuki noted, favoring the two younger girls with a warm smile. "Though, I warn that it would be unwise to think that the best is already behind you," she said, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her tea. "Who knows what choices and possibilities might bring, after all?"

"...surely you would, Lady Tsuji," Amber noted. "After all, you're a year wiser than all of us."

"Were it only so," Miyuki murmured, shaking her head, with the unreadable expression that graced her features making Shinji's heart ache. "Were it only so." But then her warm, amber-colored eyes was drawn to something Natsumi was toying with – a chrome and black cylinder. "Natsumi, is that what I think it is?"

"And what do you think it is, Miyuki-senpai?"

Natsumi's voice...was more playful than Shinji remembered hearing before, as if she knew a secret she didn't think her older friend knew.

"A lightsaber," the raven-haired girl said blandly.

"...you knew?"

Natsumi blinked, almost fumbling the so-called saber in her surprise.

"You _did_ have me watch Star Wars, and act out some roles, when I first came to Britain, Natsumi. Three times, actually." Miyuki noted wryly. "I believe you called it a chance to practice my English?"

"Nats, you did that to Lady Tsuji?" Amber asked, both of her eyebrows rising high towards the ceiling, as she glanced over at her friend. "There's a limit to these things, you know. Besides, I didn't think Lady Tsuji liked movies with flashy effects, as a rule." She looked over at Miyuki, her expression softening. "You prefer character pieces and dramas, right?"

"When I choose to see films, which is not often," the older Hufflepuff qualified. "I much prefer reading, with my imagination filling in the scenes from the words on the pages. Generally, I find a poor substitute for storytelling, all flash and no…substance."

"Only generally?" Shinji questioned, curious about Miyuki's tastes in entertainment – and not just in the very unlikely case that they might one day have a chance to watch a film together or something.

" _Star Wars_ is something of an exception, given how it builds on the Hero's Journey."

"The…hero's journey?" Shinji echoed, not having heard the term before.

"A pattern seen in the oldest myths. Along with the seven basic plots that most stories follow."

"Huh. I didn't know you studied stories so intensely," the boy noted, curious about why this was so. He'd always thought of his beautiful senpai as someone who was more…serious about her pursuits.

"And why not? Stories, after all, are how we understand the world and our place in it," Miyuki murmured. "Whether we are hero or villain, human or monster, and more."

"…ah."

"On that note, what is your favorite story, Lady Tsuji?" Amber inquired. "A book, perhaps? A play?"

"A film, actually," Miyuki supplied, with Natsumi being the only one not surprised. " _Blade Runner._ "

"I, uh...do you like science fiction, senpai?" Shinji questioned, almost at a loss for words.

"Not nearly so much as Natsumi does," the older Hufflepuff teased. "She did write once that she wanted to be a Dark Lady of the Sith for an assignment. The teacher in charge was...less than impressed."

"...Miyuki-senpai," Natsumi groaned, with a hint of exasperation. "That was years ago."

"So it was," Miyuki agreed, glancing at the chrome and ebon cylinder in Natsumi's hands. "And yet…"

It struck Shinji then that the other people in this compartment had all known Tsuji Miyuki far longer than he had, that they knew a senpai that he didn't, that they'd shared her smiles and laughs, her triumphs and frustrations from long ago.

He'd thought…he'd thought he was special, just because she accepted him – just because he'd shared an intimate moment with her, but…

"Are you feeling alright?" A voice jolted him from his thoughts, with Shinji looking up to find Amber looking at him worriedly, her cheeks reddening – just like his – as he met her eyes. "Your expression just now..."

"I was just thinking," the boy murmured, shaking his head in an attempt to pre-empt this whole line of questioning.

"Thinking? About what?" the young Gryffindor pressed.

"The past. The present. The future," Shinji said airily, with Amber smiling wryly at his words.

"...A bit vague there, aren't we, Mister Matou?"

"Perhaps, Lady Gainsborough," Shinji replied, shaking his head. "I guess I'm just wondering what...surprises the spring will bring." He glanced over at Miyuki, hoping she'd pick up on his bit of distress. "What do you think, Miyuki-senpai? What are your hopes for the coming year?"

"I hope to finish the current stage of my project," the young woman remarked.

"Oh so...what you showed me?" Shinji asked, not wanting to say exactly what it was, in case she hadn't shared it with someone else, yet wanting to make his own claim on senpai's time – to say that she'd shared something special with him too.

"In part," Miyuki confirmed, with a slow, thoughtful nod. "There are a few other possibilities I am exploring with a collaborator."

"Anything else?" the boy wondered aloud.

He knew she probably wouldn't say she hoped to stay, or that she hoped he would continue to be by her side, but there was a part of him that...

"I hope that you continue to be a reliable friend to Natsumi," Miyuki replied with a gentle smile, her word both warming him, yet driving a dagger into his heart at the same time. "And that perhaps you will even stay awake in History class?" she added, almost as an afterthought.

"...urk..." A strange sound escaped the boy's throat as the three girls chuckled at his expense.

"What are your hopes, Matou-kun?" the young woman inquired, with Shinji's stomach doing somersaults as she looked at him so…so gently.

"...that every day I will be better than the day before." The boy swallowed, not sure what he was about to say was wise, but he continued on nonetheless, as he looked into eyes the color of the dawn. "And that maybe, in some small way, I can make…the people I care about…happy."

His words came out almost as a squeak, with his face red as a vine-ripened tomato.

"I see. Natsumi?"

"That I continue to make wonderful friends at Hogwarts, like Matou-kun and Lady Selina," the chestnut-haired girl noted, shaking her head. "And that we keep crushing the competition in challenges," she said, sharing a sly smile with Amber.

"That much, I can agree with," Amber quipped. "Though I would also like...to find someone who understands some of my troubles. It's a bit lonely being in Gryffindor if you're not an utter boor like Phelan is, you know. There are people from big families, but they're..." Her expression was somewhat complicated. "You know what I mean, Lady Tsuji."

"Indeed," the older Hufflepuff agreed. "In that sense, I think you and Matou-kun would get along."

"O-oh?" Amber remarked, her slightly less composed than before. "W-why Mister Matou?"

"Your circumstances," Miyuki noted, with Amber's eyes widening as she glanced over at an equally startled Shinji.

"C-circumstances?" Shinji squeaked, his face reddening as senpai turned to regard him.

Miyuki sighed.

"The matter with which you shared with me," she remarked obliquely. "It is something…you have in common."

"Oh. Ooohhhh," Shinji stated, almost sagging with relief. He'd thought...he'd assumed...that perhaps Miyuki had seen the tension between them, after what had happened at Quirrell's Christmas party.

"Did you think I meant something else?" Tsuji Miyuki questioned.

"Ahahaha, no. Not at all," Shinji said, not at all convincingly, since his face was beet red.

"I see," the raven-haired girl noted blandly. Perhaps she did – perhaps she did not, and perhaps she simply didn't care. "Matou. You do not seem well. Do you require a moment alone?"

"Yes. I think some air would be good," the boy remarked, shaking his head. "Though..." He glanced over at Amber, his cheeks reddening even more as their eyes met, slate grey into dancing green. "Lady Gainsborough, would you do me the honor of accompanying me for a bit? I don't want to say, collapse in the hallway. It would trouble me to inconvenience anyone else."

"So you would rather just inconvenience me then, Mister Matou?" Amber quipped, with Shinji making a rather sour face at her teasing. "Well, that's fine. We can't have someone else doing terrible things to you when you faint. Who knows what might happen in a hallway in a roving train?"

"Who knows indeed?" Shinji questioned, shaking his head and rising from his seat.

Miyuki moved aside so that the copper-haired girl could slide out, with Amber moving over to the dark-haired boy, noting how his eyes roamed over her form, then looked away, as if embarrassed.

"Do you need to lean on me a bit? Or—"

"No!" Shinji exclaimed, wincing at how abrupt he'd said that, though he noticed that perhaps he _was_ a bit unsteady. "I mean, no, that's not..."

"Give me your arm then," she murmured. "So, I can keep you upright if you are indeed in danger of collapsing."

"I-I wouldn't want to—"

"I took a dose of Mopsus earlier. I daresay, I won't have much trouble holding you up, Mister Matou," the girl related airily, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Especially since I'll know when you're about to fall."

"...you and Natsumi both love that potion just a little too much, wouldn't you say?" Shinji muttered. Still, he offered her his elbow as she requested, as she wrapped her hand around it and drew him close, as she had so many times before. "Erm. You don't..."

"I don't have to be this close?" she remarked coyly. "Well, that's true, but I would rather not be accosted by some of the more boorish elements on this train." She glanced over at him, her eyes wide and faux-innocent. "You'll protect me, won't you, Mister Matou?"

"I, um, yes. Yes of course," the boy answered, his voice perhaps a bit higher and more strained than usual as the two of them left the compartment and stepped out into the hallway. "Thanks."

And when the door closed behind them…

"Tell me…did you want to be alone with me _that_ badly?" the copper-haired girl murmured, her tone rather more sultry, with Shinji flushing at the closeness of her. "Really, I would have thought last night would have made you quite tired of my company. Haven't you had enough?"

"Oh, never that," Shinji shot back, as they chose a random direction, their feet carrying them along.

"So you'll never, ever get enough of me? Oh, how greedy, Mister Matou," Amber teased, as Shinji's whole body went red, as he realized how what he said could be interpreted.

"Um, uh..."

"You know, girls don't like a boy that is too demanding," she whispered, looking away. "Even if..."

And then it was the young noblewoman's turn to trail off.

"Even if...?" Shinji pressed, seizing the chance to win back the initiative.

"Even if that boy might be a little handsome."

Shinji swallowed, feeling a bit dizzy as Amber's fingers began to trace small circles on his upper arm.

"You uh...you think I'm handsome?" the boy asked numbly, letting out a sigh as he felt her warmth seep into him.

"A little bit," she admitted, flashing him a mischievous smile. "One of the few to have an appreciation of culture too, unlike those utter boors in Gryffindor." She lowered her voice as she leaned against him. "I wouldn't be talk to them like this, you know. They'd be confused, probably getting the wrong idea entirely."

"The uh, the wrong idea?" Shinji echoed, their gazes locking for a moment before his slipped, and he noted just how close – how _moist_ – Amber's lips were. "Whatsoever do you mean, Lady Gainsborough?"

"Oh, just that they might think I like them or some nonsense. Boys can be silly like that, you know. So easily charmed by a smile and a song."

"I uh...I see," the boy stated, feeling a little unsteady – only for the touch of an invisible hand to keep him upright – and to tease his spine in the process, making him gasp.

What was she saying? That she didn't like him? That she did, and didn't like the others? That—

"You're confused too, aren't you?" the young noblewoman asked with a cute chuckle.

"N-no, of course not," Shinji replied, perhaps just a bit too quickly. "I've – I've never heard you sing, either, so it's not like I was charmed or anything."

"You weren't?"

"I, uh..."

"Well, yes or no. Which is it?" Amber quipped, chuckling at Shinji's bit of disorientation.

"...maybe a little," he admitted, with a sigh. "I just..." The boy shook his head, as his wits and clever words failed him. Perhaps…perhaps he should just be direct. "I…what do you think of me?"

"Ah," the noble girl noted, her smile taking on an odd quality to it. " _That_ question, hm?"

"Yes. That question," Shinji confirmed, feeling rather nervous now that he'd asked it. Had he just…had just made a big mistake?

"Are you terribly sure you want to know?" the copper-haired girl asked tonelessly, the absence of emotion in her voice sending a chill down the boy's spine, even as the tips of her fingers dug into his arm. "You might not like the answer, Mister Matou."

"I..."

"Think carefully before you say yes or no," Amber said, glancing over at the boy. "Because if I tell you, I won't be able to take it back. Things will change between us, no matter what I say. No matter how you reply."

"Even if I pretend I didn't hear?"

"If you were going to do that, I might as well not bother answering."

"...I...please…I want to know," Shinji answered, looking down. "I...last night..." He swallowed. "We, uh..."

"Go on."

"We...k-kissed, didn't we?" the boy asked, feeling very fragile all of the sudden. It had been his first kiss too, and never in a thousand years had he expected to have it taken from him in an accident with a pretty foreigner.

"...so uncertain, Mister Matou?" Amber quipped, whispering into his ear. "Weren't you the one who pulled me down? Who boldly accosted the daughter of an earl and captured her lips? How unexpected daring."

"I…"

"...you _do_ know that in the old days, doing something like _that_ would be grounds for terrible things, yes? At the very least, you'd have to take responsibility. At the worst, you'd lose your life."

"Um..." Shinji was sweating now, wondering if the copper-haired girl was going to make him endure some particularly cruel punishment game for what he'd done accidentally. He supposed he would deserve it, since a maiden's first kiss was something special, but—

 _'It was mine too! Doesn't that mean anything?!'_

"Well...if I didn't like you, that is," she concluded.

Every other sound in the world seemed to fall away. The sound of the train moving on the tracks. The whistling of the engine. The food trolley in the distance. All of it – except for her voice.

"...you…like me?" he repeated, finding it hard to believe. "As in _like_ like?" he squeaked.

Was this…a _confession_? That…that had never happened before. Ever. The one girl he'd liked before coming to Hogwarts, well, the Second Owner had laughed in his face, and that was without him trying to confess or anything rash like that.

"Maybe. At least, I'm fond of you. Fond enough that I'll forgive you stealing my second kiss," the girl murmured to him, with Shinji's eyes widening at her statement.

' _She's…fond of me,'_ he thought, his lips involuntarily twitching into a smile. But then the rest of her words hit him. _'Wait. Her_ second _kiss? Then who was her first?'_

His mind reeled, unable to really process what he was feeling right now, and in that moment…

"So...what do you think of me?" she asked him, her voice…almost shy.

"Well, I..."

But before he could answer, reality chose to interrupt, with the rest of the world reminding him that it existed with a tremendous _crash._

Shinji almost jumped as a door just a few meters before him was torn off its hinges, with a red-haired boy hurled after it by a bolt of brilliant blue light, his wand thrust out with a cry of _**Rictusempra**_ **.**

"You…haha…take that…hahahaha…back, Weasley," came a low, dangerous voice, as Hermione Granger, laughing stepped out from the compartment, her wand pointed at the redhead, before she was hurled back through the doorframe by a jet of sickly green.

"Never. Eat slugs, Granger!" Ron Weasley snarled, not in any mood to deal with the bushy-haired brunette's overbearing personality. He looked haggard, with blood dripping from his mouth, and a savage look on his face as the sounds of retching and hysterical laughter filled the air, followed by thud after thud. "Had enough, or should I continue?"

Some of those thuds revealed themselves to be wriggling thing – giant slugs, which to Shinji's mind, seemed almost like the worms in the Matou basement.

 _'A spell to make someone vomit slugs?'_ Shinji mused idly. _'Handy.'_

He was about to step in when Ron's wand went flying, as a jet of crimson light blasted him full in the chest, slamming him half through the wall of another compartment, his body slumping through the hole as his eyes rolled skywards.

With something between a growl and a hysterical laugh, Hermione Granger stepped forward once again, catching the Weasley boy's wand and leveling both implements at the boy's prone form.

 _"Mucus…hehe..ad Nauseam Tria!"_

A bolt of green struck the boy, as Ronald Weasley's body jerked.

 _"Mucus ad Nauseam…heheahahaha…Tria!"_

Another bolt, a violent convulsion.

 _"Mucus ad—"_

Unwilling to see someone helpless be ruthlessly cursed over and over before his eyes, Matou Shinji _moved_ , his limbs carrying him forward faster than he would have thought possible to interpose himself between Granger and her fallen foe. The bushy-haired brunette, for her part, froze mid-cast upon seeing the hated face of her mortal enemy before her, her aim going wide as the spellbeam meant for Weasley harmlessly impacted the wall instead.

"You, ha, hahaha," she began, but the effect was ruined as she choked, with a slug tearing its way out of her mouth.

"If you have any decency, Granger, you will stand down this instant," Shinji demanded, glaring at the girl with a mix of pity and disgust. "Weasley's had enough. And you…you need help."

The girl had no response except to raise her cherry and dragon heartstring wand to cast a spell, deadly words falling from her lips as...

 _ **"AHHHHHHHHH!"**_

—she collapsed to the ground _screaming_ , which coupled with the laughing and vomiting of slugs, made for a very disturbing sight indeed.

' _What…?'_

And then the boy noticed it – the reason for Granger's sudden defeat.

' _Her arm.'_

It was…twisted, like the bone of her upper arm had been wrenched clean out of her shoulder, and both wands lay on the ground, forgotten.

' _How…?'_

Shinji looked on, unable to comprehend exactly what happened.

"...has it ever occurred to you that taunting a woman with a deadly weapon might be a bad idea?" Amber inquired, regarding the brunette writhing on the ground impassively. "Not everyone as forgiving as I, after all."

"…if this is you being forgiving, remind me not to get on your bad side," Shinji said nervously. "Speaking of which, I'm...uh, not, right?"

"Oh, you'd know if you were, Mister Matou," Amber quipped. Then she turned her attention back to Hermione. "Poor you, that seems like it hurts."

"You...he…haha…he…." More slugs shut her up, with that and the laughter stealing away her breath so her face was quite red.

"Let me fix that for you," the young noblewoman said beatifically.

And then, with another surge of telekinetic force, the arm was wrenched back in place.

Granger _screamed_ once again, her body going limp as her eyes rolled up in her head, and the girl mercifully went silent – mostly due to passing out – though that didn't stop the slugs from crawling out of her throat.

"Matou, could you cast _**Finite Incantatem**_ on her, please?" Amber requested. "I would rather her not choke to death, as unpleasant as she is."

"Uh…right," Shinji stated, going to do just that.

"You may want to paralyze them as well, so that neither will be able to do you any harm if they awaken," the Gryffindor girl suggested. "Besides, it might be wise to do so with Mister Weasley anyway, since he _did_ hit his head."

"…right," the boy grunted, doing as Amber requested. "What next?"

"I'll take their wands and report this whole thing to the prefects," the young noble replied. "You should…check on Weasley. He seems to be turning an odd shade of green."

"Ah. Will do."

Amber had just left when Phelan, who had gone to visit the bathroom, and on his way back, had dallied over at the food trolley, buying a number of snacks, finally returned, the smile draining from his face as he looked upon the wreckage of what used to be his compartment.

The door had been torn from the hinges.

Part of the wall on the other side was quite demolished.

Papers and books were scattered, knocked to the ground.

And inside…

Matou Shinji was there, stooped over the battered, sickly form of Ron Weasley, with an unconscious Hermione Granger laying on the floor like discarded sack of potatoes, and both their wands were gone.

"…what in the bloody blazes happened here?"


	23. Truths

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 22.** _Truths_

"…your sister happened," Matou Shinji responded wryly, straightening from his examination of the fallen Weasley boy, an unreadable expression on his lips.

There was a beat, as Phelan Noel just _looked_ blanklyat his once-friend.

"…come again?" the Gryffindor boy said slowly. "What's this about my sister?"

' _Perhaps I should just explain from the beginning.'_

"Weasley and Granger were dueling each other. Granger won, and cursed him a few extra times for good measure."

"…and then my sister got involved," Phelan realized with a heavy sigh. "That…that sounds like something she'd do, all right." The young noble shook his head. "And how are you get involved with this…mess?"

"As the idiot who tried to keep Granger from hurting someone once he was down."

Phelan winced.

"Let me guess. She attacked you, and my sister had to stop her."

"…well, yes," Shinji admitted. "That _is_ basically what happened."

The young Gryffindor nodded to himself, before walking up to Shinji and clapping the boy on a shoulder.

"Matou, did it ever occur to you that it's not the smartest thing in the world to get between an angry woman with a weapon in her hand and what she wants to hurt?" Phelan related, looking the Japanese boy in the eye.

"…you learn that from experience, Phelan?"

"Dealing with my sister is quite an…educational experience, I find," the young Gryffindor commiserated. "Something you'll probably learn soon enough if you keep spending time with her."

"I…don't get the wrong idea," Shinji began, but Phelan cut the boy off with a snort and a shake of his head.

"You're not a bad guy, Matou, not really. A bit stiff and pretentious, and maybe not all that bright, but still, you're alright for being one of my sister's friends." Phelan smiled, a somewhat rueful expression as he glanced at the unconscious figures of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. "You even stayed to look after someone who you don't know and someone who really doesn't like you for some weird reason."

"It's not like Amber just left," Shinji said, trying to defend the copper-haired girl's honor. "She just went to find a prefect, since neither Granger or Weasley are in good shape." His cheeks might have heated up just a bit, with Phelan noting this and shaking his head.

"...oh yeah, you've got it bad."

"G-got what?" the Japanese boy demanded.

The last thing he expected was for Phelan to chuckle.

"Never mind. If you don't know, I won't ruin…whatever you think you have," the green-eyed boy said with amusement. "Just…wow, after Granger called you a monster, I didn't think—"

"—I'm not a monster," Shinji growled. Well, said. Almost growled. Really.

"I know you're not, but…" Phelan made a complicated expression, as he looked down at the unconscious form of Granger. "Look, you don't have to tell me, but did you do something to her?"

"To…your sister?" the Japanese boy said quizzically.

"No. I mean, to Granger," the earl's son noted. "The things she was saying, Matou…people _usually_ don't start feeling that way about someone without a reason."

"…bloody hell if I know," Shinji replied with a sigh. "She's been after me since I can remember. Screams and runs away. It's like she wants to get me in trouble."

"…oh?"

"Though now that you mention it, she _did_ see me standing over Filch's body," the Hufflepuff recalled, his expression pinched as he considered his erstwhile friend. "After you and Ernie jumped down the pipe."

"…oh."

Phelan winced, recalling that it had been _he_ that had ah…incapacitated the school caretaker.

"So she—"

"Probably," Shinji said blandly, glancing down at the all too pale form of Hermione Granger. "Might as well keep it that way, don't you think, Phelan?"

"That's…that's an excellent idea, Ma—Shinji," the Gryffindor agreed quickly. "It's not like it matters now, right? After all, we all know the story. Filch was helping out Professor Quirrell when a tragic accident happened."

"…yes. A tragic accident," Shinji echoed, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"Mm."

The two boys stood together in a somewhat companionable silence for a while, not really sure of what to say to one another. They'd never really been close before, and now…

"You're coming to Exton Hall for Christmas, right?" Phelan spoke up after some time.

"I am," Shinji confirmed.

"Any reason…you're not going home?"

"Are you saying I'm not welcome?" the Japanese boy asked.

"No! I…I was just was thinking that your family would miss you," Phelan said stiffly. "I mean, it's not like you're an orphan or anything."

Shinji just shrugged.

"Christmas isn't really a big deal at my family. And well…they…they won't miss me," the Hufflepuff confessed. "Not while they have my _sister_ there."

"Heh. You have a sister too, huh?" Phelan asked, curious now. "What's she like?"

"Not a twin," Shinji responded immediately. "Adopted."

"Ah." The Gryffindor winced. "And they like her better than you?"

Shinji felt the world tremble as a frisson of rage welled up within him, but this time, he managed to tamp down on it before anything terrible happened.

"Can we please talk about something else?" the Hufflepuff asked. "Maybe…tell me what the Slug Club party was like."

"Ah, I can do that," Phelan said agreeably, and proceeded to do so, describing how exciting it had been to meet Gilderoy Lockhart in the flesh, and just how the man had been utterly incredible to speak to.

"He asked about us, you know. All of us," the Gryffindor murmured, with Shinji struck by just how…gentle the other boy's voice could be. "Like he actually wanted to know about our dreams, and ambitions. What we liked and what we didn't." Phelan smiled. "He actually told me that if I worked hard, I might end up a great adventurer yet."

"Is that so?" Shinji asked. "I met him once at the Ministry, but I never really had the chance to talk to him."

"Yeah. My sister told me about that," Phelan noted, glancing over at the Hufflepuff. "I was meaning to ask…why her? Why not one of your other friends, like…Nats?"

"…you call her Nats, too?"

"Only because it annoys her if anyone other than Amber does it," Phelan admitted.

"Well, if you really want to know, it's because she got me out of a bind at the Masquerade, so I owed her one," the Japanese boy said, his cheeks heating up a bit as he remembered how 'Miss Lockhart' had clung to him back then. "Well, and since she was going by 'Miss Lockhart' at the party, I thought she would like to meet the real thing."

"Heh. Makes sense," the copper-haired Gryffindor noted. "Anyway, he talked about his book, _Journeys with Jinns_ , and the first journey he took after leaving Hogwarts. The first time he fell in love, too."

"Love, huh?"

"Yeah, and with one of the jinn he traveled with, of all things," Phelan related. "Maybe that's why he's never settled down."

"Huh, really?"

"Yeah. He says that one day, he'll return to the desert, to the place where it all began," the Gryffindor recalled with a distant expression. "Because he promised it to the wind." Phelan chuckled at that. "All the girls swooned at that, you know."

"…anything else?"

"Well, he did let us each ask him a question. I asked him what he thought was better, a sword or a wand."

"…you _would_ ask that," Shinji grumbled, though he couldn't help but be curious as to what Lockhart had said. "And? How did he answer?"

"He said that if he had to pick a tool, it would be a simple knife," Phelan related with a wry expression. "Though he also said that as long as one could think, one was never truly unarmed."

"Well, he's not wrong."

"I suppose. Still nothing like having a sword in your hand though," the Gryffindor quipped.

"You know, I think your sister would agree with you on that," Shinji agreed, with Phelan's expression souring.

"…yeah, well."

A bit after that, Amber finally returned with not one, but two prefects.

These, as Shinji would come to know, were Robert Hillard and Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw, with the first being an older, dark-haired boy with a roguish smile, while the other was a stern blond who gave a rather credible impression of Professor McGonagall as she looked over the scene of devastation.

"I know we checked the wands of the people involved, but…this was done by first years?" Penelope muttered incredulously. "Even you never did anything like this in your first year, Robert."

"Well no, but then, I didn't know the Weasley Twins back then. And this boy is clearly a Weasley," the dark-haired prefect noted, glancing over at Ron. "…a very sick Weasley, at that."

"At least, whatever form the Curse of the Bogies takes, its easily enough lifted with a dose of Pepper-Up," Penelope sighed. "You did bring a potions satchel, Robert?"

"Yes, Penny. I didn't forget," the Ravenclaw youth said with a wry smile. "I'll look over the Weasley boy, if you'll get the girl?"

"Better than the other way around," Penelope sniffed, to which Robert just shrugged.

The two set about their business, cancelling the Full Body Binds that had been cast on the two and reviving them.

There was admittedly some hateful sputtering and eyes going wide from fear and shock once Hermione noticed that Matou Shinji was looming over her, with Phelan standing beside the Hufflepuff as if nothing was wrong, while Ron was more upset to see that Hermione was awake and _in front of him_ – though he did feel markedly better after drinking the Pepper-Up, even if his head was still swimming.

Statements were taken, repairs were made, and the two who had dueled and caused such terrible damage to the train were each assigned a month of detention once they returned from Hogwarts.

"We'll have Professor Flitwick hold onto your wands, since you've both proven you can't use them responsibly," Robert said reasonably, with Hermione looking desperate as she realized the way out of the compartment was blocked by the older students, and that the _monster_ who haunted her dreams every night was _in there with her,_ along with a copper-haired devil masquerading as a simple witch.

"No…I…"

"Besides, you're a Muggleborn, Miss Granger. You won't be needing it over break anyway," Penelope added, with Hermione's expression looking very pinched and worn as the two left and began incanting spells to repair the damage to the room.

Shinji, noting the intensity with which the remaining Ravenclaw was glaring at him, suppressed the fleeting urge to rip the rip the girl in two, as he shook his head.

"Well, I think I've outstayed my welcome," the boy noted wryly. "Phelan, I take my leave. Do make sure Granger doesn't try to claw out Ronald's eyes or anything of the sort.""

With that, he turned to go, with Amber taking his arm and walking out with him, as Hermione's eyes – and Phelan's – followed them out of the compartment.

Ronald Weasley, sadly, was still rather out of it due to hitting his head a little too hard during his last encounter.

* * *

Things were somewhat more cheerful some hours later, when, after reaching Kings Cross and disembarking from the train, Shinji, Amber, and Phelan decided to pay a visit to Magical London. After all, there was Christmas shopping to be done – something none of them had really managed to take care of while living in the Castle.

Of course, for Matou Shinji, there was still the matter of money, since he didn't have a knut to call his, only some goods he might be able to trade, like the sample of basilisk skin Quirrell had given him after the Chamber of Secrets Incident, or the Invisibility Cloak which sat next to it in his rather handy haversack.

"Any idea what shops would be best for this kind of thing?" he asked the twins, knowing that they probably had little idea.

"Well, before that, why don't we decide which Alley we're going to be spending our time in?" Amber pointed out, noting a signpost with helpful directions to four different spaces.

Diagon Alley, of course, was one of the main thoroughfares of Magical London, where most of what was readily available could be found – common books, pets, brooms, and all the things most practitioners of witchcraft needed.

There was Knockturn Alley, where one could find things that might be...more delicate or harder to find, such as artifacts, antiques, and other curios.

There was Horizont Alley, home to the most skilled of Magical London's artisans. Most of the shops here opened only by appointment, and catered to the very very rich. They specialized in bespoke items, promising quality as stunning as the final price demanded.

And then, there was Vertic Alley, the home of reasonably skilled (and reasonably priced) artisans, as well as the Auction House operated by Gringotts.

After some discussion amongst themselves, which notably involved a few pointed glances, some banter that Shinji was not sure was completely friendly, and occasionally consulting him for his take on things, Amber and Phelan decided that the best place for them to visit was Vertic Alley, as Horizont might be out of their price range and Diagon seemed so…pedestrian.

' _As expected of nobles, I suppose…'_

Unsurprisingly, the first stop the trio made was the goblin-run auction house, as Amber wanted to see what curios were available there, Phelan wanted to see goblins, and Shinji…well, he was mostly following his friends' lead.

Not having had the chance to sell off any of his items for hard currency yet, he felt somewhat uncomfortable walking in, especially as the gaze of the (what he assumed was a) goblin (presumably) on duty seemed to pass over him without seeing him at all, only coming to rest on Amber, who was dressed in the elegant travelling garments that Professor Quirrell had gifted her.

"Ah...a customer," the diminutive creature said with a bit of a lisp, its long fingers steepling as he regarded the trio. "And...two fellow-travellers. I am afraid we will have no auctions being conducted at present. The earliest one to come is scheduled for..." The goblin glanced down. "Tonight."

"Good day to you," Amber replied with something like a smile on her face. " And I think there's been a misunderstanding. We're not here to buy, but to put a lot up for sale, Mister..."

"Brillig," the slant-eyed goblin answered after a moment. "You have them here with you?"

The copper-haired girl nodded.

"Bring them out for…assessment."

"Yes," Amber nodded, glancing over at Shinji. "Matou, if you would be so kind?"

Shinji blinked, the expression on his face twisting to one of utter confusion as she looked at him.

"Huh?" he said intelligently, whereupon the green-eyed brunette glanced back at the goblin with an apologetic smile.

"Good help is so hard to find these days, isn't it?" she quipped.

"So it would seem," Brillig noted coolly. "The items, then?"

"Matou, the invisibility cloak, please. And the parcel of basilisk skin," the young noblewoman requested, with Shinji, once again, following her lead as he removed the items in question from his haversack. "Place them in front of Mister Brillig." After he had done so, Amber spoke again. "This is the lot we wish to sell."

"Hm. The invisibility cloak is not a particularly interesting item," Brillig said baldly. "I've seen it's like far too many times to be excited by another. You may as well take it back. There is little purpose in putting it together with a parcel of ba—you did say basilisk, yes?"

"I did," Amber noted.

"Impossible. There have been no basilisks reported existing in the last several hundred years."

"Perhaps you're right," Amber conceded lightly. "However, this bit was taken from the Chamber of Secrets. It belonged to the ancient Basilisk of Salazar Slytherin himself."

"…and the cloak?" Brillig inquired. "You have some unbelievable story for that as well?"

"The cloak belonged to one Quirinus Quirrell, Professor at Hogwarts, and most recent inductee into the Order of Merlin – for discovering the Chamber."

Brillig went very still at this, his eyes gleaming as he thought of how much this could be sold for.

"...and one of you would be willing to write an affidavit attesting to the authenticity of this, I presume?" he asked, his voice very light. "Not that your words mean much."

"How about Professor Quirrell's?" Amber countered, doing one better and produced a small scroll – which Shinji recognized as something Quirrell had given to Amber alongside her travelling cloak.

The goblin unfurled it, noting that it read, in fussy handwriting, _'Gifted to the recipient on the Solstice of 1991 by Quirinus Quirrell, O.M. (Third Class), in recognition of extraordinary potential',_ with the imprint of one of the Order of Merlin medals left on wax.

"...a thousand galleons," Brillig offered, after a moment's consideration. "For the lot."

"Do you think me a fool, Mister Brillig? I could get at least that much from the basilisk skin alone," the brunette commented, refusing the offer. "And that's without mentioning its...history. Try again. Something reasonable this time, or I go to Knockturn Alley."

"How unusual, that a child would know the value of what she carries," the goblin noted almost dismissively. "Fifteen hundred galleons then, and I am being generous for offering that much. My elders would call me a soft-hearted fool, and my children an imbecile for cutting my own throat."

"Were it a day to speak only lies, perhaps," Amber countered, shaking her head, and reaching for the items. "If you're not going to deal honestly—"

"Two thousand."

The young noblewoman paused in mid-motion.

"...and?" she asked archly.

"And half of the final price at auction, after subtracting this...advance of two thousand," Brillig offered reluctantly, with the words sounding like they cost the goblin much to speak. "Even this much is generous. We goblins must eat, after all."

"Considering that you likely charge a premium to the fortunate buyer? Of what, ten, twenty percent?" Amber rejoined. "Eighty percent sounds more reasonable."

"An advance of two thousand galleons, and seventy five percent of the earnings, minus this...up front cost," Brillig counter-offered. "That is the best I can do. If you will walk, then walk."

The goblin looked at the young witch, seeing what she would do.

She in turn, looked to Shinji, much to the goblin's surprise, given the boy's somewhat shabby appearance.

"Well, Matou?" she asked sweetly. "Deal or no deal?"

"Deal," Shinji said, extending his hand to the goblin. The creature looked at the limb as if the boy had offended him in some way, with Shinji frowning before withdrawing his own. "Have...have I offended you in some way?"

He'd thought that shaking hands part of making a deal...but had he been wrong? Had he stumbled on some cultural taboo?

"To...offer your hand, as you do, wizard, implies that you are unarmed," Brillig responded after a moment. "Deceitful, when your mind and magic mean you are anything but. And by expecting reciprocation, you demand that the other be unarmed."

"But aren't you?" Shinji asked, blinking, as he didn't see any obvious weapons on the diminutive being. "Unarmed, I mean."

"To imply such to a goblin is the highest of insults," Brillig answered, his mouth twisting in something like a sneer. "As it implies one is witless."

"...I apologize if I have given offense," the boy replied, with a deep bow that seemed to mollify the goblin.

"Very well then," the duty goblin said coolly, as he wrote out a promissory note for the sum of 2000 galleons and signed it, handing it to the boy. "You may pick up your...advance from Gringotts." After that, Brillig proceeded to pull out something that looked like a draft of a contract, with several blanks he filled in, before signing. "I will need your signatures on this. Whoever is to have access to the funds that will be deposited in the account to be opened, that is."

"Account?"

"It is far easier that way. Unless you enjoy the prospect of carting thousands of golden coins about?"

To Shinji's mind, the image of him swimming in a pool of golden coins seemed...quite charming, but he shook his head.

That...probably wouldn't ever be practical.

Much as the image of Amber swimming with him in said pile of coins, or of Senpai reclining languidly on said pile as she sensually licked a dollop of frosting from her delicate fingers as she smiled at him sultrily was also...not practical.

The boy hesitated for a moment, though after glancing at Phelan's stony face, he decided to sign it alone, albeit after giving Amber an apologetic look. As much as the deal was in fact, something Amber had secured for him, he didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea about their relationship by opening a joint account.

That would make it seem almost like...like they were married or something, and that was absurd.

The boy flushed beet red as he realized that, finding himself unable to look at Amber as he signed the document.

Brillig took the document and glanced over it, nodding as he applied an official stamp to it, before handing it back to the boy.

"File this with Gringotts. You will be notified when the auction is held, and when the funds have been transferred," the goblin said quietly but intensely.

"And the goods?"

"You may leave those with Mister Gimblegyre, my associate at the bank, upon receipt of your...advance," Brillig declared, before turning away, back at the papers he was dealing with. "Now, unless there was anything else...?"

"Thank you for your assistance, Master Brillig," Amber replied with a curtsy. "We look forward to doing business with you in the future."

"Hm," Brillig made a sound, but said no more as the three children left, and headed to the bank.

* * *

The three took some time to set up their accounts, collect their monies, and file their information with the bank, before they headed out, somewhat richer, to wizarding London once again.

"So, where to?" Amber asked brightly, glancing over at Shinji, who blushed a bit, much to Phelan's ire.

"…somewhere I can get better clothes," the Japanese boy grumbled. "I think there was a place around here? Twilfitt and Tattings, or something like that?"

"We might we well try it," the young noblewoman said agreeably. "Unless you had somewhere else to be, Phelan?"

"Well, now that Matou's finances are well and sorted and you've had your bit of fun," the young noble muttered, "I wanted to get some gifts for people too, while we are here. I was going to just go to Knockturn Alley and see what kinds of interesting things I could find there, thanks to Ron always saying that horsepiss about Dark Wizards shopping from there and the like, but maybe you might have an idea of what people might want."

"Well, who are shopping for?" Shinji asked reasonably. "It's not like everyone wants the same things."

Phelan laughed, somewhat despondently.

"Well, you know Weasley and Granger, right?"

"Kind of?" Shinji hazarded. "I mean, I know who they are, but, I couldn't even begin to tell you what they like."

Perhaps that wasn't strictly true, since he was pretty sure Hermione would like his head on a platter, but he wasn't about to suggest that.

"Why them, anyway?" Shinji wondered aloud.

"They were my teammates for _Surviving the Crash_ ," Phelan replied. "Ronald was the one who passed," he said with a grin.

"And Granger..."

"Also my teammate," the young boy said, a more tender expression flitting across his features for a moment before it was replaced by his more usual veneer of joviality. "She didn't do as well."

"Ah," Shinji noted eloquently, the old maxim of "if you can't think of anything positive to say, don't say anything at all" fixed firmly in his mind.

"She did about as well as you, in points," Amber commented wryly. "That is, both of you ended with a whopping score of zero. What was the saying again, brother of mine? All talk, no trousers?"

Phelan sighed.

"I'll have you know my trousers are quite fine," the boy replied stiffly.

"I suppose you're not truly _daijoubu_ , then, aren't you?" Shinji cracked, before he realized that neither of the two understood what he meant. " _Daijoubu_ means 'its fine' or 'I'm fine', or sometimes, 'I can do that', but its written with the characters for big, tall, and husband. Or I guess you could say, big long husband."

"Blimey!" Phelan exclaimed, looking scandalized as he looked down at his trousers. "Then, when you Japanese folk say 'it's alright', what you really mean is..." He frowned.

"Matou, I'm pretty sure it meant something else?" Amber cut in, glancing at Shinji. "Unless you really think Nats is the type to talk about—"

"...well, yes, it used to mean 'noble male,'" Shinji admitted, slightly piqued. He'd been enjoying Phelan's bit of discomfort, after all. "After all, a true gentleman could take even the blows of swords and spears and not show a trace of discomfort."

"Huh. So with one word, you're saying he's not really acting like a noble, and that his trousers-"

"Enough about my bloody trousers!" Phelan groaned, shooting both his sister and his...friend a baleful glare. "Look, we can't all tie for the highest score in the year, with close to four hundred points, sister of mine," the male of the twins replied grumpily. "So shut your laughing gear. And you, Matou, stop taking the piss!"

"Well, since you ask so nicely..."

Phelan bit back a growl, before turning back to Shinji.

"Well, gift ideas, Matou?"

"Weasley likes...what does he like, Phelan?" Shinji inquired, realizing he didn't know much about the youngest of the Weasley children. "What does he talk about?"

"Quidditch, mostly? When he isn't talking about how his brothers play pranks on him, or how he hates having hand-me-downs," the young noble related.

"Maybe a book then?" Amber suggested, glancing over at a handsome coffee table edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ prominently displayed in the window of Flourish & Blotts, with a price of 15 Galleons. "Something like that, perhaps?"

"Hm. A nice thought, but I'm not sure he really wants a book," Phelan mused aloud, somewhat less irritated since his sister had made a surprisingly helpful suggestion. "I'm surprised, sister. I thought you didn't like Ronald much?"

"I don't. He is terribly uncouth, and has no idea how to speak to a lady," Amber replied with a sniff. "But he is your friend, so I won't recommend something terrible for him." She glanced over at Shinji. "Any ideas from you?"

"Well, how about a Broomstick Servicing Kit?" the Japanese boy asked simply.

"Wouldn't you need a broom first?" Phelan countered. "I know first years aren't allowed to own one, and frankly, I don't think his family is well off enough to afford one."

"Quirrell gave him one. Or rather, a voucher for one," Amber noted. "A Nimbus 2000, at that."

"What."

"You heard me."

"…don't tell me he gave everyone such expensive gifts?"

"I could tell you that, but well…I don't like to lie, you know," Amber quipped, as Phelan cursed quietly under his breath.

"…fine. Moving on then, uh, what about Granger?" Phelan said, somewhat testily.

"Hm, I don't know her particularly well," the green-eyed girl admitted with a shrug. "Matou, you've had more dealings with her, yes?"

Shinji grimaced.

"Well. Yes."

Granted, none of them had been good, but...

"Would you know what she likes then?" Phelan asked...hopefully? "I wouldn't want her to feel left out."

Shinji was silent for a while, as he honestly didn't know himself. But since she was a Ravenclaw...

"...books," the Japanese boy felt confident in guessing. "I think she's the type who likes to read. Who likes to know what's going on in the world."

"Don't get her a subscription to the paper though," Amber noted pleasantly. "Girls usually appreciate something a bit more _substantial_. Maybe one of Lockhart's books? After all, you rather like them, don't you?"

"Well," Phelan noted. "That's not a bad idea, but..."

For some reason, giving her a book written by an author who made all his fans swoon, even if he was the greatest adventurer in Britain, seemed...off.

"...oh, is someone jealous?"

"J-jealous?!" Phelan sputtered. "It-it's no such thing, sister of mine. I just thought, maybe she wouldn't enjoy those sorts of adventures. She seems like such a serious girl."

"Serious is one word for it," Shinji grumbled.

"Another sort of adventures then?" Amber suggested wickedly. "Perhaps romance novels? Or...something from Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions? I'm sure most girls wouldn't mind something like that."

"Are you sure you aren't the one who wants something from there, sister?" Phelan teased, only for an unexpected voice to cut in.

"Oh, I doubt it. A potion might help someone seem beautiful, but she already is. Beautiful, I mean," Shinji's mouth said softly, before his brain caught up, and he froze to find Amber and Phelan paused in midstep, both of them looking at him as if he'd said something odd, albeit with one blushing lightly and the other's face looking very stern indeed. "What?" he asked, deciding that perhaps he could pass it off as a slip of the tongue.

"I think," Phelan said frostily, "that we were talking about gifts for Granger, not _my sister_ , Matou."

"Hm? Weren't you the one who brought up your sister?" Shinji asked, puzzled at how the conversation had shifted around him. "I was just—"

"Enough about my sister," Phelan exclaimed testily, before resuming his walk at a redoubled pace.

Shinji and Amber glanced at each other, sharing an odd look, before they hurried to catch up.

"New clothes?" Amber suggested.

"Clothes? I'm pants at clothes shopping, and I don't think she shares your tastes."

"Some...other potions, maybe?" Shinji suggested, as they passed an apothecary. "Perhaps something to sharpen her wits, or improve her stamina."

"...I think she'd probably be mortally offended by the implication that her wits were dull, Matou," Phelan snapped peevishly. "Anything more serious?"

He and Amber tossed out a number of suggestions, which were shot down, one by one, until a piece of paper tacked to the door of Obscurus Books caught his eye.

"Well, how about a lifetime subscription to the _Daily Quibbler_?" Shinji offered.

"The what now?"

"The Daily Quibbler," Shinji repeated, pointing at the ad. "There's even something about a Christmas special. Act now, and for 100 galleons or twelve easy payments of just 15 Galleons each, you can receive a lifetime of priority access to what really happens in Wizarding Britain. Huh. I think Selina might like this."

"Huh 12 easy…wait, that's 180 galleons!" Phelan asked. "That's not cheaper than 100!"

"I guess something just aren't that different between the muggle and wizarding worlds."

"Too true, sister of mine, too true."

"Might as well just pay the hundred," Shinji agreed. "It's not exactly cheap, but..."

"For a lifetime of access to the secrets of the world, it would be," Amber commented. "Assuming that the Quibbler lives up to what it says, I'm sure Granger would love it."

"Then let's arrange that. There are subscription forms attached the paper, so I'll just fill them out and mail them, yeah?"

"Yes, and why don't you go and get Ronald's gift too?" Amber said agreeably. "Matou and I will be over at Twilfitt and Tattings,"

Phelan glowered as he looked between the two, but just nodded.

"Fine. I'm sure I'll be meeting you there afterwards," he muttered. Then he glanced at Matou. "A word of caution. My sister has very...peculiar tastes when it comes to clothes."

With that, the other boy turned on his heel and left, presumably to run his errands.

"Well, then, shall we be off?" the girl suggested, with the boy, not knowing what he had gotten himself into, just nodding.

And so, arm in arm, Shinji and Amber made their way to Twilfitt and Tattings, the clothing shop of choice for those who did not want to be forced to shop among the commoners who flocked to the much more decidedly pedestrian Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

* * *

The boy from the east hadn't known what to expect from his experience at Twilfit and Tattlings, as shopping for clothes had never been something he'd really done before, especially with a pretty girl at his side, but whatever it was, this wasn't it.

 _'Not when said pretty girl being the only one the shopkeeper is actually paying attention to,'_ the boy thought bitterly, with the proprietor seeming to barely tolerate his presence - up until Amber had informed the man - Mr. Twilfit, presumably - that he was the customer. _'I guess appearances do matter, after all.'_

For an idle moment, the boy had wondered what would happen if he had allowed his obscurial form to manifest in all of its terrible glory, before remembering what Miyuki would say if he gave into his murderous impulses.

 _'No. I'm better than that. I'm better than that.'_

He had to be.

So he'd kept quiet as the proprietor had made some noises about how a young noble should make sure one's retainers did not bring shame to their family, with Amber helping him choose garments of fine materials but simple, functional cuts. Nothing too gaudy, but which, due to the construction and quality, would let an onlooker instantly recognize he was someone of means.

He did feel a bit strange about her looking over him critically, adjusting the collar of his new robes, however, and pointing out how it could be adjusted to better flatter him, making him try on item after item - with him blushing the entire time – but by the end of it, he had acquired a few sets of workable day-wear that wouldn't look too out of place in the muggle world.

 _'Thank goodness for that too.'_

"Let's go meet up with Phelan and just wander for a bit, shall we?" Amber suggested, with her smile of approval making Shinji's chest grow warm indeed.

"Yes. Let's."


	24. Unexpected Thoughts

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 23.** _Unexpected Thoughts_

To reach Exton Hall, ancestral seat of the Earls of Gainsborough – and the place where Shinji would be spending his winter holidays, required two and a half hours by car, three hours by train, or just one and a half hours if took the East Midlands train to Leicester and was picked up from there. Whichever method one chose though, getting there took some doing, which left Shinji and the Noel twins with quite some time to talk.

"You have a family motto?" Shinji was asking, as the train pulled out of St. Pancras International and began making its way north.

"Most of the old families do, since we have to put _something_ on our coat of arms," Amber explained, smiling at the boy as she took a journal from her bag and showed him said bit of heralry. "Ours is ' _tout bien ou rien.'_ "

"And what does that mean, exactly?" the boy from the east inquired. "I don't speak French."

"At least you recognize the language," the copper-haired girl noted. "Anyway, the motto means ' _do everything well or do nothing._ '"

"Or ' _All or Nothing_ ,' which is the interpretation I prefer," Phelan interjected with a wan smile. "Suitable for an adventurer, wouldn't you say?"

"…you _would_ say that, wouldn't you?" Shinji asked dryly, remembering some of the more reckless stunts that the earl's son had been involved in. "But whether its suitable…I'm not sure."

"Oh? And why is that, Matou?" Phelan questioned, turning the fullness of his attention on the boy sitting across from him.

"Because you only live once," the boy from the east responded pithily. "And if you ever come up on nothing…"

He trailed off meaningfully, though Phelan looked unconvinced.

"As you say, we only live once," the young noble rejoined. "So why not seek to have it all?" Phelan chuckled. "I aim to be an adventurer, Matou, boldly going where no one has gone before, rather than some clerk in the Ministry."

"Well, it's not as if I have any particular desire to work as a clerk," Amber quipped dryly. "Though I suppose even a good enough clerk can achieve a measure of fame."

"Oh?"

"Sir Thomas Bond has a street named after him in Westminster," the copper-haired girl offered as an example. "And he was but comptroller to the household of Henrietta Maria – the wife of the much unloved Charles I."

"Comptroller?" Shinji echoed. "What is…?"

"Accountant," Amber explained.

"Bond, you say?" Phelan mused. "I have heard that name before, but where…?"

"Perhaps one of the Ian Fleming books you received some Christmases ago?"

"…ah yes. James _Bond_." Phelan paused. "Sister, are you telling me that there is an actual family of Bonds?"

"Yes. To this day, they live in Dorset, and like the fictional James, are descended from Thomas, and the Elizabethean spy John before him," Amber supplied with a thin smile. "Their family motto was something of a joke, as I recall."

"Oh?"

" _Orbis non sufficit –_ the world is not enough," the copper-haired girl recalled, with Phelan raising his eyebrows.

"And how is that a joke?" Phelan demanded. "It sounds properly ambitious even by your standards!"

"Too ambitious," Amber corrected, shaking her head. "It was meant as an insult to the King of Spain, who at that time, controlled an empire on which the sun never set, and was accepted as such. Had it been taken seriously as a motto…well, let us say it would have been seen as…overstepping."

"Ah."

They talked of this and other things, and soon enough, found themselves at Leicester. A short conversation about Exton and the Rutland holdings of the Noel Family later – something which Amber somewhat seriously suggested should be explored by horseback, and which apparently included a rather extensive park, groves of trees, the largest free-roaming herd of deer in the United Kingdom, some ruins, and an old mine – they arrived, with the household staff greeting the young lord and lady – and their guest.

To Shinji's mild disappointment, it was nothing like a scene from animes involving wealthy young heirs, in which a veritable legion of maids or butlers would line up and bow, welcoming the young master of the house home, but it was pleasant enough nonetheless.

After being introduced as a guest of the family, the boy was shown to a rather large room, rather more ornately decorated than his own at home, and was told that the twins would meet him in the sitting room downstairs over tea.

'… _so this is how the nobility lives, huh? On rich estates out in the country.'_

An estate spanning 6000 acres of land – though once, it had been 14,000 – a full eighth of Rutland, which for all that it was the smallest county of England was still very much a county.

There was so much _space_ out here, so much green, unlike in Miyama Town in Fuyuki, that it was a little unnerving.

The _daimyos_ of old had lost their lands and power after the Meiji restoration after all, with their holdings becoming the prefectures of today – and they the first governors, before they were stripped of that duty and called to Tokyo. As such, there were no grand estates that remained in the hands of the daimyo families, much unlike here, where officially or not, the nobility still held very real influence.

' _Though I suppose magi aren't unlike nobility in that way…'_

They were much concerned about bloodlines, heirs, territories, and the like – but then that was a world to which he didn't belong. Couldn't belong, since he had no talent as a magus.

' _I'm merely a practitioner of witchcraft, though we haven't really covered what I_ _think of as such in detail.'_

After all, when magi thought of witchcraft, they didn't think of transfiguration, the charms one tended to learn in Professor Flitwick's classes, or herbology – ok, well perhaps _some_ herbology. They thought of thought of potions...and they thought of curses.

Not curses as in the spells that Granger and Weasley had used against another on the train, or the mere cantrips they learned about in Defense against the Dark Arts.

Curses as in spells and abilities which could shape destinies, bend fates, twist minds.

That was why, when Matou Shinji had learned he had been accepted to an institute focusing on witchcraft (prudently ignoring what the letter said about wizardry, since that _had_ to be an empty boast – and from what he'd seen, he'd been right to do so), he'd spent what spare funds he had on two items: a book on Occlumency, the art of protecting the mind from outside influence, and a comprehensive book on curses, entitled _Digging Two Graves._

Knowledge was power, and he hadn't wanted to fall behind his peers, who no doubt would all come from lineages which had practiced these dark arts for centuries.

…reality, however, proved much stranger than fiction.

And for all that he was a good student, and had never failed to rise to an academic challenge, the boy had found that the practical aspects of protecting his mind took up quite a bit of time and effort, enough that he hadn't been able to spare time for more than the most basic exercise in _Digging Two Graves_ , a charm designed to allow budding practitioners of the Dark arts to create disposable items they could use for practicing their arts.

' _Well…at least Gemino is useful for something.'_

Enchantment, after all, was best done on a blank object - something which isn't already laced with prana and intent, lest there be...dangerous interactions. It was a complex, subtle art, especially when one was working with more deadly effects, since the enchanter was not immune to the effects of his or her cursed items.

Some of these effects might be as simple as heating an object when exposed to someone's life force. Others might require something a bit more to trigger, like shocking someone who tried to pick a lock or reducing someone who supplied a wrong password to ashes.

It was no small thing to imbue objects with such effects, after all, sometimes requiring a bit of soulstuff - either your own or another's - to make it stick (which was typical of true curses, given that to cast a curse was to dig two graves, as the old saying went).

 _'Huh. Maybe that's why the Dark Arts - the proper stuff, not the watered down business Britain talked about today - has fallen out of favor. They don't want power, just versatility.'_

Too much power in the hands of individuals made it difficult to have a proper society, as it would make enforcement of law or regulation quite difficult.

A shame, as his reading suggested that a powerful enough practitioner - who had a very clear vision of what one wanted - could even affect concepts or categories without a physical object needed. As an example, one might be able to say...curse anyone who was appointed to teach History of Magic at Hogwarts, or say, whoever became the heir of a family.

Not that he'd be performing any such curses – or much in the way of practical witchcraft – here over the summer, since apparently the Ministry had some sort of restriction on students using their abilities at home.

' _Oh well_ ,' he thought to himself once he'd unpacked the few things he'd brought with him from Hogwarts – and the rather more sizable number of things he'd bought in Vertic Alley, including 500 Galleons worth of new clothes (on Amber's insistence). _'I might as well see what the twins are up to.'_

* * *

As the boy learned when he arrived at the sitting room, the Earl of Gainsborough, his wife the Countess, and their eldest son, the Viscount Campden – who was only fourteen, were apparently out for the day, meaning that Shinji and the twins would be left to their own devices.

"Shall we take that horseback ride I spoke of?" Amber asked him over tea, to which Shinji idly found himself thinking that Miyuki-senpai's tasted better. "It would be lovely to do so before the sun set."

"Would be a bit much for someone who's never ridden a horse," Phelan commented phlegmatically. "If we wanted to do that, we should probably start earlier in the day. We only have another hour of light or so left. Maybe two."

"And what do you suggest, brother?" Amber questioned.

"We should show Matou the ruins of the old house, and some of the other sights of the estate. Perhaps even the chest that inspired the Legend of the Mistletoe Bough?"

"The legend of the mistletoe bough?" Shinji repeated quizzically. "What's that?"

"Nothing you need to know for now," Phelan noted coolly. "If you want to see the chest, I can tell you then."

The earl's son gestured to a map of the Noel's family's holdings, showed a number of lakes, groves of trees, ruins, a historic house or two, and sweeping gardens, in which it was said that Shakespeare had once performed.

"But you're the guest, Matou," the young noble pointed out. "What would you like to do?"

"…well, you've both mentioned that you know how to use swords, right?"

Both Amber and Phelan nodded, not quite sure where their friend was going with this.

"Do you think you could teach me?" the boy asked, with Amber and Phelan sharing a very expressive _look_ at the boy's request.

"You want to learn how to use a sword? From us?" Amber questioned, her slim fingers caressing the hilt of the rapier she held in her lap, with Shinji's face reddening for some reason as he noticed. "But..." she looked him up and down. "For what purpose? You don't have a blade."

"I...I'd still like to learn," Shinji stated, firming his resolve. "I mean, you know how to use a blade, Lady Gainsborough. I assume you do, Phelan?" The earl's second son nodded. "And Natsumi, well, Quirrell gave her some kind of saber, so I guess she knows...?"

"Some," Amber admitted, her lips quirking up slightly at the thought of her old friend. "Though she's more interested in kendo than the western styles Phelan and I prefer, and somewhat less practiced, since there are no... _kendoka_ , was that the word? at Malvern St. James."

"Kendo?" Shinji echoed. "Oh. Because of Miyuki-senpai?"

Amber laughed softly, a very pretty sound, Shinji thought.

"Oh no. Lady Tsuji doesn't practice any sword arts," the copper-haired girl noted. "She much prefers other pursuits, and using her wits as her weapon of choice. The pen is mightier than the sword, they say."

"Anyway, if you say you want to learn how to use a sword, I don't mind showing you a few things, and I suppose we could get you some training gear, but..." Phelan hesitated. "I trained in backsword, a style which focuses on slashes and cuts, while my sister's rapier training focuses on thrusts."

"So, what we're asking really, is who you want to learn from," Amber concluded.

"I think I'd need to know more before I choose," Shinji temporized. Just knowing that someone focused on slashes and cuts versus thrusts wasn't really all that useful when one wanted to choose a blade style. Not that he absolutely wanted a blade style yet - he'd just thought it would be nice to learn.

"A fair point," Amber admitted. "Phelan, why don't you start with the backsword."

"Hmph. I would have done so even if you didn't ask, sister of mine," the second son of the earl noted, shaking his head. "In any case, yes, I trained for some years in how to wield a backsword. Instead of using foils or epees, we start with something more solid."

"More solid?"

"A cudgel, otherwise called a singlestick."

"Something like a bokken," Amber interjected, with a flicker of irritation crossing Phelan's face at the interruption.

"Yes, whatever that is," Phelan grumbled. "Anyway, the backsword is a simple but effective weapon. A weapon that was carried across hundreds of battlefields by thousands of common soldiers as a sidearm, and used by cavalry. An adventurer's blade, unlike the rapier."

"I can handle describing the rapier myself, brother," Amber noted coolly.

"Yes, well. As I said, the backsword is a blade for the common man, versatile and proven," Phelan concluded with a huff.

"The rapier, by contrast, is a more refined weapon," Amber commented wryly. "A weapon that emphasizes quick, precise strikes, to disable an opponent with the utmost efficiency. There is no wasted effort with a rapier, no wild swings and desperate lunges. A useful weapon, even by the exacting standards of those more gently born."

"Well if you put it that way, I think a rapier sounds like a better fit for what I had in mind," Shinji commented, with Phelan grimacing as the Japanese boy made his declaration. "I'll be in your care, Lady Gainsborough."

"A good choice," Amber murmured, giving the boy a smile that made his heart race. "I will arrange for a full set of training gear for you, though it may take a few days to get that sorted."

"What, you have his sizes already?" Phelan exclaimed, narrowing his eyes. "But how...oh right. You did help pick out clothes for him, didn't you?"

"Mhm," the copper-haired girl confirmed, much to her brother's discontent. "We'll give you some directions about how to take care of your new training weapon, and show you how to wear the protective garb, when everything comes in. No need to do waste time by having to repeat ourselves, right?"

"...right," Shinji agreed, though inwardly, he was a little disappointed, as he'd thought the lesson would start today, with Amber perhaps loaning him her sword and correcting his posture, holding his hands in- "Shall we all go for a walk?" he asked, trying to distract himself from rather inappropriate thoughts about the daughter of a noble house.

"All of us?" Phelan asked carefully. "Or just..."

"All of us," the Japanese boy said brightly. "Perhaps you could show me around?"

"Ah, certainly," the Earl's second son agreed. "What would you like to see? The grounds about the manor? The ruins of the old house? The lakes?"

"...maybe the village?" Shinji asked instead. "We're going to be around the manor all winter, so I wanted to see what things were like in Exton."

"It's well...there's not that much to see," Amber supplied.

"Oh?"

"Only a few hundred people live here," Phelan noted, shaking his head.

"Which I think is part of why you wanted to be an adventurer, right? To see the world?"

"...you've got me there, sister."

"Wow. That's...not a lot of people at all," the Japanese boy mused aloud. "Especially since there a million and a half people in the city I grew up in."

"And what brought you all the way to Britain, and to Hogwarts?" Amber asked curiously.

Shinji sighed and looked away, unable to meet her curious green gaze.

"...my mother's legacy," he said after a few moments. "Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

* * *

Deciding to humor their guest, the twins did as Shinji asked, leading the boy from the manor to the quaint little village just outside the grounds of Exton Park. To the boy's surprise, it only took about 15 minutes to go from Exton Hall, the ancestral home of the Earls of Gainsborough, to the tree-planted green just outside the Village Hall - the social center of the village.

"I had my graduation from primary school here," Phelan recalled, shaking his head as he walked up to the doors. "Right before I came to Hogwarts. I grew up here, in this small town, unlike you, sister."

"Well, it's true, you attended the village's school, while I went to Malvern St. James," Amber noted with a thoughtful expression. "Three hours away from London by train. But it was one that went direct, unlike the one here."

"Hogwarts and Hogsmeade...they remind me of Exton, actually," Phelan admitted. "Mostly in how small they are, and how everyone knows everyone else. I thought the world outside the village would be grander, full of wonders. But it's just full of people, same as every other place. People with their worries. People with their cares. People too caught up in the details of their lives to appreciate the world around them."

"Magic or not, people are people, you know," Amber quipped, shaking her head. "It's strange. You were much more excited than I was when you received your letter, and yet you seem...disappointed."

"While you're never really disappointed because you never expect anything of people, sister," Phelan grumbled. He glanced apologetically at Shinji. "Well, maybe not never, I guess. You do get along with that Natsumi girl."

From there, the two made their way to the War Memorial Garden just off the village green, dedicated to those who had died in the Great War - a number which included one Robert Noel, son of the Third Earl of Gainsborough, many years ago, where they encountered someone they - or at least two of them - hadn't expected to see.

 _'Is that...'_

"Greetings of the season, Miss Tonks," Phelan greeted, his cheeks tinged with just a hint of red as he graced the young woman with a gallant bow.

"Ah, back from school, are ya, Phelan?" the young woman replied, a bright smile gracing her features as she curtseyed to the boy, glancing over his companions. "And you even have friends from school! Did they come to visit for Christmas?"

"Heh, well, one is," the earl's son admitted. "The other...Amber is my sister."

"...Auror Trainee Tonks?" Shinji asked quizzically, with the newcomer's expression going slack with shock as she took a closer look at the two besides Phelan.

"Oh. Oh. The school-age couple, yes!" Tonks said brightly, as Phelan tried very hard to keep his expression from curdling. "Makar Shini and Amber Noel."

"Matou Shinji, actually," the Japanese boy corrected, with a nod. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here!"

"Heh. I'm more surprised to see you two again, since I live close to here, on the other side of Exton Park," Tonks pointed out. "While you two-" Her mouth closed with a click as her thoughts caught up with her tongue, and she turned to Phelan. "Wait, if you all know each other, then when you sai you were going to school, Phelan, did you mean...to Hogwarts?!"

"...yeah," Phelan admitted sheepishly. "You...you're a witch then, Miss Tonks?"

"An Auror, actually," the Metamorphmagus said proudly, puffing out her sizable chest - with the motion drawing Phelan's eyes as certainly as a moth to a flame. "What House? I was a Hufflepuff, which these two know already."

"Gryffindor," the Earl's son said stoutly. "But...how do you know my sister, and...Matou?" He frowned then. "And why...a couple?"

Tonks chuckled, a very pretty sound which made Phelan's cheeks heat up yet further.

"I gave them a tour of the Ministry some time ago, but they were in dress robes then," she recalled, looking them all over. "In more casual clothing, I didn't recognize you."

She smiled impishly.

"Certainly didn't recognize Miss Noel without that sword of hers," Tonks cracked, with Amber smiling just a hint.

"Few people do," Phelan jibed, with Amber shaking her head and Tonks snorting.

"Heh."

"So how you know my brother, Miss Tonks?" Amber inquired. "You said you live near here, but..."

"Your brother used to visit the memorial garden every weekend, much like I did," the Auror trainee related with an odd expression. "I come here often enough myself, but I didn't know why a schoolboy would. There aren't any pretty girls about, after all."

"I wouldn't say that…," Phelan mumbled, going red at the admission. "There was always one…"

"Heh. I was curious, and asked him one day why he looked at the memorial stones, and do you know what he told me?"

"What?" Amber asked.

"That he was reminding himself that the world outside was dangerous, and that when he went on his great adventure, he would need to make sure never to end up on a stone like this, because otherwise, his sister would cry," Tonks recalled softly. "I didn't know you would both be going to Hogwarts. Have any adventures yet?"

"Oh, just a few..."

There was a bit more conversation, with the young woman revealing that this would be her last winter in Exton, as she and her mother would be moving to London as soon as they sold their cottage – something which had once belonged to her aunt.

"I'll miss it but...I think I like the city more," Tonks admitted. "It's much more...lively."


	25. Power and Perfidy

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 24.** _Power and_ _Perfidy_

In his dreams, he stood triumphant over his foes in a city overrun with shadow and flame, as the smell of burning flesh and broken dreams wafted to his nostrils. After years of being looked down upon, years of being thought of as less than the dust of the earth, he had finally shown them – _shown them all –_ what he was made of.

"Nii…san…" came a croak from the ground, as a blackened lump of charcoal moved, just a little bit. "Why…"

But he didn't answer, since speaking wasn't something a twisted incarnation of hatred was capable of, and even deigning to growl would have been an acknowledgement that the usurper had existed – perhaps even existed still.

"Why…?"

And then the lump of darkness went still, crumbling into ash, like the rest of Fuyuki City, the place he hated more than anywhere else in the world.

Why?

Where did he even begin?

As curse upon curse spilled from a tear in the world, a demon laughed and laughed and laughed, as—

* * *

Matou Shinji stirred, a painful groan escaping his lips as he raised his head from the… _book i_ t had been laying on.

' _What…? Did I…?'_

He'd fallen asleep while reading from _Digging Two Graves,_ trying to glean the specifics of how certain curses functioned – without actually casting them – and as such, was quite sore from sleeping in a bad position.

'… _and I thought this only happened in History…'_

If Natsumi were here, no doubt she would scold him again, though actually, he wasn't sure what she'd scold him about. Falling asleep was one possibility, but…would she be ok with him studying curses? Would senpai?

' _I don't actually know what senpai would think,'_ he realized, reflecting on the fact that Miyuki-senpai, the beautiful Hufflepuff who listened to his worries and soothed his fears, was also a figure of terror for a number of Ravenclaws – a dangerous person they didn't dare cross. _'Because that would mean that I understood her.'_

And Matou Shinji didn't understand Tsuji Miyuki, not really.

He'd seen some parts of her that he didn't think she showed anyone else, yet he was also sure there was far more to her than he knew.

' _Girls are complicated.'_

…more complicated than things like curses, that was for sure, even if wrapping his mind around the concept that every curse was in some way a gift, and every gift a curse, did take a bit of doing. Or at least, that was the basic theory behind casting curses on oneself to gain power, say, in the tradition of the _geasa_ of the Irish, or the _geasan_ of the Scottish.

A full third of the curses in the books fell into that category, including the eponymous _Digging Two Graves_ , a dual-state curse that the author of the book had devised. Shinji had found that one particularly interesting, given its abilities. In its passive state, it would keep one afflicted with it from consciously killing someone using magic, yet at the same time, would empower one's defensive magics and would take the life of anyone who killed the afflicted one. And in its active state, it could strike down anyone the cursed one chose, regardless of defenses – at the price of the cursed one's life.

'… _an ultimate act of spite, I suppose.'_

Not that Matou Shinji considered himself a particularly spiteful individual.

Well. Not as spiteful as some, even if he had good reason to be spiteful when it came to things like his _**siste—**_

The boy staggered to his feet, hand clutching his chest as a pulse of pure hatred raced through him, with shadows distorting around him.

' _No.'_

He…

' _No.'_

If he just…if he just gave in like this, then that…then that would mean…

Just then, there was a knock at the door, the sudden sound drawing his attention, and snapping him out of his murderous trance.

"Mister Matou. Are you decent?" came the voice of Amber Noel from the other side of the door.

"D-Decent?" Shinji echoed blankly. What did she…? He looked down, saw that he was still dressed and hadn't done something strange like manifest blade-like fingers or an aura of destruction, so, yes, he supposed he was. "Yeah…." He said weakly.

"Can I come in then?" she asked. "Or is the door locked?"

"C-come in," the boy offered, shaking his head. What...what was happening to him? Why was it getting harder to control these impulses?

The door swung open, and Amber walked in, clad in a dark blue jacket, white blouse, a plaid skirt and dark stockings – all in all, something that looked very much like a uniform, though the crest on the jacket wasn't one he was familiar with.

"…your old school uniform?" Shinji guessed, with the copper-haired girl nodding.

"I felt a little strange not wearing it this year, so I decided to wear it today," Amber commented, looking away. "What do you think?" she asked softly. "It doesn't look…strange, does it?"

"N-no. It-it suits you," the boy replied, looking down at his feet. "Ah, good morning."

Amber chuckled lightly.

"And a good morning to you, Mister Matou," the girl replied sweetly, though her expression turned more serious as she looked him over. "Still wearing the same thing as last night?"

"…I fell asleep while studying," Shinji admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Didn't manage to change."

"Heh. Nats said you had a bit of a problem staying awake in class, but I didn't think you'd fall asleep while just reading," the earl's daughter quipped. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"I don't know. What did you have in mind?" Shinji shot back, slightly tired of always being on the back foot whenever it came to dealing with Amber.

The girl blinked, surprised at his flippant query.

"Well, father and mother were planning are heading to London today to meet with various acquaintances," she said after a moment. "Since we have not spoken in some time, they wanted to offer Phelan and I chance to come to the City with them."

"Ah."

"Of course, I explained that since you were our guest, I couldn't very well just leave you by yourself," Amber continued. "That would be quite inhospitable."

"…quite."

He waited, sure that the earl's daughter would explain herself if he didn't say anything else, and sure enough, she did.

"He agreed that you could come with us, if you wished, and that since you were our guest, Phelan and I could show you around and not attend the…gathering," the girl continued.

"Ah."

"Don't get the wrong idea. I didn't go out of my way to ask for this because of you – just because it would have been rude to a guest. Do you understand?"

Shinji found himself smiling for the first time that day.

"Yes. I understand," he replied, stifling the urge to laugh. That…really did sound like something an ojou-sama would say, didn't it?

"Good. Then…is there anywhere you wanted to go? Assuming you didn't want to just stay here, that is."

"Well, uh…I've always wanted to visit the British Museum?" Shinji offered, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"The British Museum?" Amber echoed, somewhat taken aback.

"…do you not want to?"

"It's not that I don't want to. I just didn't think you'd mention that place, that's all. Most foreigners don't really know about it. Even I've only ever gone because my school had considered it an educational activity, after all, not because I had any great love of such venerable institutions."

"Well…my mother's…father once worked there," the boy explained, relaying what Flitwick had mentioned.

"Your grandfather did?"

Shinji's face twitched at the word _grandfather,_ but that was – fortunately – the only visible sign of his annoyance.

"…I suppose he would be that as well," the boy said stiffly, his body trembling. "Even if I've never met the man."

"Oh. I'm very sorry, Matou."

"Don't be. It's not like you could have known," he ground out. "Just…call it a whim, and accept it. Please?"

"…well, it's certainly worth visiting at least once," the earl's daughter noted with a nod. "And I suppose Phelan would enjoy it himself, since he's never been."

"Never, you say?" the boy from the east asked, startled by the frank admission. "Why is that?"

"Well, Father and Mother don't really like visiting the city more than they have to," Amber explained, with a grimace. "Father's always been fond of the countryside. The fresh air, the space, the pace at which things go - and he wanted Phelan to grow up without worrying too much about the city."

"Not you though?"

"Unlike Phelan, I went to boarding school for the last six years, mostly because Father thought it would be useful for me to get to know the heiress to the Tsuji Group," the copper-haired girl admitted.

"...to get to know Miyuki-senpai?" Shinji questioned, eyes widening.

"Mhm. The Tsuji Group is a pretty big name, you know? And since their heiress was just a year older than me, I was sent to school to befriend her," Amber noted with a small smile. "Do you know, those years with Nats and Lady Tsuji were some of the best years of my life…"

Her cheeks coloured prettily at that, with Shinji finding it startling how...relaxed Amber could be in the safety of her home, as opposed to at Hogwarts.

"I...didn't realize," the boy admitted. "My only time at boarding school before Hogwarts..." It had been unpleasant, but then, that was partially due to it being in a foreign country. "Let's just say I didn't enjoy it." He laughed powerlessly. "Though, if we're going into the city, maybe we should see if Natsumi and could join us?"

"Oh? You want to see Nats that badly, huh?" Amber teased. "Am I not enough? You'll make a girl jealous, you know."

"N-no! I-I didn't mean it like that!" Shinji stammered. "I just—she lives in London, right? Wouldn't it make sense for us all to spend time together?"

"Heh. Well, that makes sense," Amber conceded. "I'll see if she can come." She paused for a moment, as if considering something. "Selina as well, I suppose."

"Huh? But how will you…?" the boy asked, frowning. "I mean, you don't have an owl and…"

"The magic of the telephone," the earl's daughter quipped dryly.

Shinji nearly slapped his face in embarrassment.

"I. I knew that," he said stiffly. "I just – it's been a while. There aren't telephones at Hogwarts."

"That's true," Amber said with a chuckle. "I'll be off then."

With that the girl left, with Shinji taking advantage of her absence to go and shower and change out of his rumpled clothing so that he would look somewhat presentable.

* * *

When Shinji emerged from the bathroom, quite refreshed from his shower, Amber wasn't back yet, so he decided to sit down and read a bit from _Digging Two Graves,_ this time focusing on the section on how to apply simple curses on inanimate objects, since casting destiny-altering spells was rather beyond him at the moment.

' _Hopefully not forever…'_

In the meantime, there were all sorts of ways in which innocuous seeming objects which held dreadful effects could be used to good effect, though it would probably be a good idea to learn what the law said about such things before he openly talked about them with anyone.

' _Hm. The_ Flagrante _curse seems interesting…'_

It seemed one of the simpler ones too, and being simple, was often combined with other spells to great effect. For instance, one might couple it with _Gemino_ and a sticking charm, so that a would-be thief would find themselves burned to death by a mountain of duplicates.

' _Combining spells seems difficult though, and isn't exactly a beginner's technique.'_

Lost in his reading, he didn't notice Amber come in – didn't notice her at all until she coughed politely to get his attention.

"A-h-hello again," the boy stammered, almost jumping at the sight of her, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

"Reading something interesting?" the copper-haired girl asked mildly.

"Eheh…I don't know whether you'd find it interesting…"

"Well, if you want to tell me—"

"Before that," Shinji interjected, his face somewhat flushed. "Did you hear from Natsumi? And Selina?"

"Heh." Amber made an odd sound, recognizing the boy's transparent attempt to evade the question, but decided to let him do to so, since if he was that uncomfortable, it might not be a good thing to press him. "Regretfully, Nats won't be able to join us, as she and her family will be busy with the UK Japan Festival."

There was a beat.

"…there's a Japan festival?" Shinji exclaimed, on his feet again, his eyes wide. "You mean…with Japanese food, and culture?"

"Yes. Apparently, there was even a _sumo_ competition earlier this year."

"…I didn't know there _was_ sumo outside of Japan."

"There wasn't until October."

"Huh."

"Natsumi's family is attending a reception at the Victoria and Albert Museum for the opening of the 'Visions of Japan' exhibit, though Nats recommended the _Nihonga_ exhibit at the British Museum. Apparently, it covers traditional Japanese Painting."

"I-yes!" the boy gushed enthusiastically.

"Oh. Nats also mentioned that the Japan Society of London and the Japan-British Society, which had helped to put together the Japan Festival, are hosting a gala at the Victoria and Albert Museum for New Years, and wanted to know if either of us could come so she could get tickets."

"What did you tell her?"

"Well, I said I'd ask you first," Amber replied with a quirk of her lips. "After all, you are our guest, and it wouldn't be right to just assume things, now would it? So, what about it?"

"I…thank you. I'd love to," Shinji answered, thinking that it would be nice to be around other Japanese people after a term with the British.

"I'll let her know then," Amber noted. "Incidentally, Selina _can_ come."

"She's not busy on an adventure with her brother and his party?" the boy from the east inquired. After all, _he_ would be, if such a thing was available to him.

"Ah no. She said her brother had already set off on one some time ago, and that it wasn't as if she could join them along the way," the copper haired girl said wryly. "And when she heard we wanted to go to the museum, she was quite excited."

"Was she?"

"Mhm. History is one of her favorite things in the world," Amber commented, with Shinji nodding at this tidbit, as he was sure it could come in handy one of these days. "Incidentally, she also invited us to come with her to see Diagon Alley afterwards, since she was thinking about getting an owl."

"An owl?" Shinji echoed.

"So she can keep in touch with her pureblood friends, probably," the copper-haired girl reasoned. "Now, I'm not sure if the goblins would have sold our items so quickly, but there can't be any harm in checking, right?"

"Well…no, admittedly."

"Great! I guess it's a double date then," Amber teased, with Shinji going red at the girl's words. "You and me, and Phelan and Selina." She chuckled. "I know he likes her, since she's a bit of an adventurer, like he wants to be."

Shinji thought that he recalled Selina and Ernie going to a party together, but he decided not to mention it, lest things get...awkward. That, and Amber calling the outing a date made the boy quite flustered indeed.

Still, things could always be worse.

Such was a statement that Matou Shinji would learn to be true in a fateful encounter at the museum.

* * *

Shinji's first impression of Selina in casual, non-Hogwart uniform clothing was that the girl looked rather cute, if somewhat like a Victorian-era doll, in her all-black ensemble of frilly dress, ribbons and two locks of her blonde hair done up in ringlets.

'… _it this goth loli?'_ he wondered, having heard of something like this back in Japan, though he imagined that since this was Britain, maybe a style like this was more common.

…though perhaps not in the countryside, if the way Phelan tried – and failed – to keep from obviously staring was any indication.

Since Selina mentioned visiting the museum fairly regularly in the past, the group had deferred to her wealth of experience. Unsurprisingly for someone who called herself an artificer, the first place she led them to was Gallery 44, the current home of the museum's horological collection.

' _44, huh? I have a bad feeling about this,'_ Shinji thought to himself, but said nothing, since the number four being unlucky was just a Japanese superstition.

And to be fair, seeing examples of the devices humans created to help them keep time, from some of the earliest church and monastic creations to the more modern devices featuring atomic technology, was refreshing after Hogwarts, which was mired deep in the past, while the rest of the world tick-tocked merrily on, leaving them behind.

"As an artificer, I find it relaxing to be in this place, seeing these examples of the craft across the ages," the petite blonde commented, as the group found themselves standing before the Strasbourg Clock, dominating the entryway into the exhibit with its depictions of the virtues and the fates. "And too, how many of the things we see in times of peace were once used in times of war."

"Oh? Like what?" Phelan asked, curious about how clockwork of all things could be used for something like battle.

"Well, take the fusées used in wind-up clocks," Selina noted, closing her eyes and sighing. "Before they were used in clocks, they were used for winding crossbows, after all." She chuckled. "But then, if you want to talk about things of war..."

She led them over to what appeared to be a miniature galleon, covered in gold leaf, in its own display case.

"...is this supposed to be a clock?" Shinji asked, taken aback, as he didn't see a dial on it anywhere. "But...where are the hands?"

"Did you try the base of the mainmast?" Selina asked sweetly, with Shinji stiffening as he noticed the tiny clock face.

"How would you even use this?" the boy wondered, scratching the back of his head in puzzlement. "It seems like it would be inconvenient to read the time from there. You'd have to right next to it to see!"

"Oh, but you wouldn't be looking. You'd listen," the petite blonde explained with a mysterious smile. "To mark the hour - and every quarter hour - the little sailors in the crow's nests would ring the bells on the ship. And every 24 hours, once the main mechanism ran down, it would trigger another coil, sending it racing along a banquet table, with music playing as it did. And when it reached the end..." she trailed off meaningfully.

"...when it reached the end?" Phelan repeated, looking between the golden ship and the golden-haired girl. "What then?"

"Then it would fire its cannons."

"What." Phelan had a gobsmacked reaction on his face as he just _stared_ at the model ship. "Fire its...how...?"

"It's an automaton. A contraption powered by clockwork," Selina replied with an impish smile. "First the bow chaser, ignited by a spark, which would then set off a long match, with the others firing off one after another. It was quite the start to banquets in the days of Kings and Emperors."

"... _I want one_ ," was Phelan's reaction, his eyes wide as he stared at the golden ship.

"Now now, brother," Amber began, somewhat alarmed at this. "I don't think these are made anymore. There can't be more than..."

"Three," Selina supplied helpfully.

"Three of these in the world, and I don't know of someone who would have the skills to craft one," Amber concluded, with a nod to the petite blonde. "Unless you think you can, Lady Selina?"

"...sadly, I am not of a level when I can craft such wondrous inventions quite yet," the blonde replied, to all appearances quite mournfully. "I would need more experience before even attempting such a thing."

"Yes, I'm sure you have yet to gain the tool expertise necessary," Amber noted wryly, with Selina's eyes widening fractionally as the copper-haired girl spoke.

"…you could say that, yes," Selina agreed, shaking her head. "It's not as if school is much help with that, is it?"

"No," the earl's daughter spoke, an air of regret in her voice. "It really isn't. Not that such stops Lady Tsuji, but she was always..." Amber sighed. "Exceptional."

"Well...what about a visit to Vertic Alley then?" Phelan suggested. "Surely it can't be too hard to have them make something like this, only with all of us instead of...whoever those gilded figures are on the deck."

"You mean the Holy Roman Emperor, and his Electors?" Selina inquired, slightly amused at how such famous figures in history were being dismissed so easily. _Sic transit gloria mundi,_ indeed.

"Yeah. Him. Might as well have people like us," the earl's son repeated. "Like you and me, sis. Like Lady Selina here, and Matou. Like Ernie and Ronald. Nats and that...Sokaris girl she speaks of?"

"And Lady Tsuji," Amber added.

"...yes, fine. And the Lady Tsuji you're so mad about," Phelan grumbled good-naturedly, with Amber looking away.

"It would be nice, but...where would we put it?" the earl's daughter asked. "It's a bit much to put in one of our rooms or the dining room table. Besides, I think something like this would be far beyond whatever allowance Father is willing to give us. Something like this was made for Emperors after all, and the Earls of Gainsborough don't have an Emperor's ransom to offer."

"Eh, don't worry about the details, sister," the earl's son said enthusiastically. "I mean, surely it wouldn't be too expensive since it would be crafted via ma—"

Phelan glared as Shinji elbowed him in the ribs, shutting him up – just as a number of people walked by.

Shinji breathed a sigh of relief that the masquerade hadn't been broken here - in the very sanctum of the Association - by someone like Phelan, and was about to turn his attention back to his friends when his attention was drawn by another passerby.

A woman with lustrous crimson hair falling down to her knees, and wore only jeans and a white shirt, while carrying a rather large carrying case.

' _And yet her features are Japanese.'_

Red hair. The British Museum. Japanese.

 _'She looks...'_

He wanted to say she looked familiar, only he didn't think he'd ever seen her before. Maybe he'd met a relative of hers, like a sist—

Matou Shinji's blood ran cold as the other's mutterings – something about accounts, no-good puppeteers, and having to kill a Dead Apostle – reached his ears.

 _'It can't be.'_

And yet…it most likely was, given that he _was_ standing in in the British Museum. In a gallery dedicated to the measure of time, with Phelan about to say the word _magic._

' _Speak of the devil, and—'_

Before he could think of what to do, how to respond or act, the woman had made her way over to the group, her green-blue eyes fixed on the sole Japanese boy amongst them.

"Hey, you," she said, half playfully. "It's dangerous to just stare at people like that. You never know how they'll react, you know."

Shinji shivered, a fact that the crimson-haired woman before him didn't miss.

"Huh," she remarked. "That's strange. You recognize me, don't you?"

The boy swallowed.

"Only by reputation, Miss Aozaki," he said with a gallant bow, feeling a trickle of cold sweat race down his spine as one of the two living Magicians in the world stood before him.

"Heh. Am I that much of a troublemaker that even a runt like you has heard of me?" the Master of the Fifth Magic asked, with some self-deprecation in her voice.

"Ah, it's not the troublemaking part, but..." the boy groped for the right words, though he couldn't quite find them. "...your talents," he settled on eventually, trying not to meet her eyes lest he offend her.

"My...talents, you say?" the crimson-haired magician questioned, her voice quite dry indeed, seeing as Shinji, in attempting to not meet her eyes, had ended up looking straight ahead – at her chest. "And who are you to have heard of this talented me?"

"Matou Shinji, at your service," the boy supplied, coming to something very much like attention, though he couldn't keep himself from trembling.

"You only wish you were at my service," the Aozaki commented. She chuckled a few moments later, her curiosity satisfied. "You can relax, you know. It's not like I'm going to make you explode or something."

Shinji just nodded, not trusting himself to not make a fool of himself.

But then...

"...ah if…ah…if that's so…"

"Yes?"

"...any tips for where to go in London?" he hazarded. "It's my first time, and—"

"...nah, I don't stay in any one place too long. Always on the go, you know?"

"I didn't. But I see," Shinji stammered, swallowing. "Sorry to bother you."

"Not a bother really. Even if you're a hundred years too early to be speaking to me quite yet," the woman rejoined, though she nodded a moment later. "A word of advice: try not to run your mouth too much about that m word. I don't really care myself, but some of the others around here..."

She trailed off meaningfully, with Shinji almost falling over himself to nod.

"Noted," he croaked, as the woman walked off, seemingly in a somewhat better mood.

"Matou. Who was that?" Phelan asked, rather taken aback by Shinji's reactions to what had, to all appearances, simply been a beautiful woman.

"Oh, just someone who is even more of a monster than even me," the boy from the east whispered, his legs almost giving out in relief that nothing had happened. That he was still alive. "Other than that, nothing to worry about."

"…you're not much of a monster, Mister Matou," Amber quipped, whereupon Shinji just _laughed_. "Don't tell me, she's the type you prefer?"

"Eh? No. That's not it!" the boy said, still laughing at the absurdity of that.

…though it was true that meeting a Magician did put things in perspective, as no matter how much of a monster he became, he would never be quite as terrifying as someone like Miss Blue.

"…hey, are you ok, Matou?" Selina questioned, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady to nigh-hysterical boy. "Do you need a moment?"

"Haha…hahahaha…do I…do I need…"

It took a few minutes, but the boy finally managed to calm himself down, feeling rather awkward about his outburst once he did.

"…sorry," he said, his face red with shame once he returned to his senses.

"You know, you had us worried," Amber told him, with the boy looking down at his feet. "Besides, if she was that dangerous, why not let us know? You don't have to shoulder everything on your own. We're friends, aren't we?"

"I would have…if it would have done any good," Shinji replied with a shrug. "Let's just say when I think of the word wizard, its people like her that come to mind, and leave it at that, shall we?"

"…is that why you prefer being called a practitioner of witchcraft, even if it's so much more of a mouthful?" Amber inquired.

"Should we just call you a warlock instead?" Selina chimed in, with Shinji just nodding.

"Do as you like," Shinji huffed.

"Will do, Mister Warlock."

Shinji sighed and shook his head as he gestured for the group to move along, which they did after some time. And with the carelessness of youth, soon enough, the incident was behind them, with all of them chatting merrily with one another, and Phelan in particular being much like a child in a confectionary store at the sight of odd mechanisms, suits of armor, swords and the like.

"...you really do want to be a knight, don't you?" Shinji remarked, noting the attention the earl's son paid to swords and armor and other things of mayhem.

"Or maybe a pirate," Amber said offhandedly. "He did say something about sailing the high seas and the like, though piracy isn't quite as romantic as people describe it these days. How about you, Mister Matou? Did you ever want to be something odd when you were young and foolish?"

"Well...I did want to become a Magician before," Shinji admitted.

"Then you achieved your aim, right?" Phelan questioned. "You're a great magician, a disciple of an up and coming adventurer."

"...no," the boy from the east said in a sour tone. "I'm not a magician, and I probably never will be."

"Ah, yes, Governor Malfoy mentioned that to people of his sort, to be called magician is to be equated with a mere illusionist," Amber recalled. "Is that what you meant? That you would never be an illusionist."

"No. Look, I don't really want to talk about this," the boy groused, with the others looking at him with an expression of concern. "Not here, ok?"

"…if you say so, Matou."

Having had a close encounter with destruction, the boy was not in a particularly conversational mood, which was why, as the group made their way through the Japanese Painting Exhibit, and Shinji noticed a girl around his age with a rather distinctive head of bushy, brownish hair, ac companied by two adults – presumably her parents, who were speaking rather enthusiastically about the UK Japan Festival and how later, they would all be going out for sushi, he decided to simply walk by as if he hadn't seen her at all.

Maybe it was rude, but right now, he didn't want to see Granger's face.

To hear her shrill, unpleasant voice.

To deal with anything about her.

After all, this was _supposed_ to be a holiday.

Still, as they continued onward through the collection and Selina smiled at him, encouraging him to share what he knew about the paintings, sculptures, and swords on exhibit, he did feel better – though whether that was because he felt more confident or because it was nice to be smiled at by a very pretty girl, he didn't quite know.

In one case, the group stood before a reconstruction of a teahouse, with Selina asking him to talk the group through what a tea ceremony was like.

To this he'd replied: "what kind of tea ceremony?"

After all, there were tea ceremonies based around matcha, just as there were those around sencha, with various schools surrounding each. And of course, depending on whether one was gathering for a chakai (茶会) or a chaji (茶事), things varied greatly, since the first was an informal, relatively simple course of hospitality that includes confections, thin tea, and perhaps a light meal, while the second was a much more formal affair that could last up to four hours.

Phelan had wrinkled his nose at this, as strangely enough, the earl's son was not one who enjoyed formality, but Amber had seemed intrigued, and had asked if Lady Tsuji was a practitioner of the way of tea, since she knew the older Hufflepuff often had a thermos of the substance on her.

"Maybe," Shinji had offered. "I wouldn't be surprised if she knew how, but I've never seen her perform a ceremony, so I couldn't really say."

Not that the thought of Miyuki-senpai in a furisode, preparing tea in a ceremony for two was at all unpleasant but…

Before his imagination could run rampant, the boy found his attention called back to reality by Phelan, who had caught sight of a display of swords - uchigatanas, tachis, wakizashis, tantos and more - and began excitedly asking about them.

And since he was the only Japanese person there, Shinji was tasked with answering the torrent of questions as best he could, an act which admittedly kept him from getting distracted or embarrassed as he spoke of the stories – and histories – he'd learned as a child.

Of Minamoto no Yoshitsune battling the bloodthirsty Benkei on Gojo Bridge;

Of Oda Nobunaga, the so-called Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, one of the great unifiers of Japan - and his betrayal by Akechi Mitsuhide at Honnō-ji;

Of Mori Ranmaru, the most loyal of Nobunaga's attendants, who - with his brothers - stood against the treacherous Mitsuhide to the last, choosing to lay down his life for his lord even in the face of impossible odds;

Of Ishikawa Goemon, an outlaw ninja who stole from the rich to feed the poor - and who, after failing to assassinate Toyotomi Hideyoshi, was boiled alive in a pot;

Of Okita Souji, captain of the first unit of the _Shinsengumi_ , famed for being one of the last and greatest swordsmen of Japan, with a signature move allowing him to strike three points on the body simultaneously with a single thrust of his blade, yet who, for all his strength, was struck down not by blade or bullet, but bacteria;

Of Hijikata Toshizou, Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi, cold-hearted enforcer of discipline among the elite unit - a man that not even the other sword masters of the Shinsengumi thought they could win against;

And of Sasaki Kojirou and Miyamoto Musashi, and their fateful duel.

Shinji even admitted that at one point in his life, the boy had wondered what it would have been like to live in an era where great heroes and villains roamed the world, as well as what they would think of the modern world, and all of its changes.

"It's silly to think about now, but I sometimes wonder what it would be like to meet Nobunaga," the Japanese boy said lightly. "What would he have thought about everything?"

"It's not silly at all," Phelan declared, his fist over his heart. "After all, I have always – always – wanted to meet the Once and Future King, to wield my sword beside him on the battlefield on the day of his glorious return."

"Wouldn't the return of King Arthur mean that a great calamity was about to descend on the earth, if Britain needed a King of Knights once more?" Selina questioned, with Phelan just shrugging, as he hadn't thought that far.

' _And yet…with the world we're stepping into, the world we may soon become part of, not much has changed since times of old, has it?'_ Shinji wondered to himself. After all, Magical Britain was mired in the past, unable to advance beyond a few, superficial changes. _'A world where everyone relies on their personal strength, instead of devices and contraptions. A world where arts are still bandied about with impunity.'_

Yet for all that, a world of humans still, with Wizarding Britain seeming very much like a small town whose population numbered only a few thousand.

A village, which saw everything beyond its borders, and those who did not share its traditions, as strange and untrustworthy. A society where those born into it from one of the longer lived lineages saw themselves nobility, keeping pure the traditions that had kept them safe for so many years. A world where monsters still roamed, because humans let them be.

* * *

Thankfully for Matou Shinji's sanity, his feelings of unease lessened once he stepped out of the British Museum. Perhaps it had been his imagination, but the boy had felt as if someone – or something – had been watching him the entire time he'd been walking about with his friends.

Honestly, he wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been monitored, given his encounter with the Magician, since anyone an individual like that interacted with would probably be noted by those in the Tower.

' _Or maybe I was just hungry since I didn't eat very much at breakfast._ '

That was the competing theory, which he felt had to be given _some_ credence, given that his unease disappeared entirely after stuffing himself at an Indian Buffet that Selina had recommended (at which he learned the differences between Japanese and Indian curry in quite great detail).

As he stepped into the Leaky Cauldron though, his unease returned when he saw people looking at him – and his group of friends, as if they were an unusual sight.

' _Why…why are they looking at me?'_

He wasn't wearing anything weird after all, or…

Were they looking at Selina? Or Phelan in his leather jacket and jeans? Amber, in her blazer and skirt?

'… _no. They're looking at all of us. But why?'_

The reason for the staring became apparent when Amber walked up to the bartender, Old Tom, and asked if he could help them get to Diagon Alley.

"Can it be you don't have your wands?" Old Tom asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the group, as if he thought some of them might be Muggles. "Any of you?"

"Not today," the copper-haired girl replied. "Last time we came through, we'd just come from Hogwarts. With this being the holidays, and us going on an adventure through Muggle London, wands would be a bit inconvenient, no?"

Especially since, thanks to the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, none of them were allowed to use magic anyway.

"Well. I suppose I do remember you, lassie," the bartender said, relenting. "But this is the only time I'm doing you this kindness. Don't be forgetting your wands in the future."

With that admonition, the man tapped out the pattern on the brick wall of the tavern, opening the path to Diagon Alley, and the group stepped through, out of the dingy bar and into the bustling streets of Magical London.

"So…you came here after leaving the train?" Selina asked curiously.

"Mister Matou needed some new clothes," Amber commented, with Shinji going red as he remembered all the things the copper-haired girl had made him try on – and how he'd ended up spending close to 500 Galleons – 2500 British Pounds – on said clothing. "And we wanted to do some Christmas shopping."

"Ah. That's right. I should get some presents for my brother and his friends," the blonde realized, frowning. "…I do hope I brought enough money for that."

"If you wish, I could cover your expenses for today," Phelan offered gallantly. "After all, it would shame this knight if he allowed a poor damsel to fall into distress."

As Amber muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "here we go again", Shinji let her know that he would be heading to Vertic Alley to drop by the goblin-run auction hall.

"Come find us when you're done, Mister Matou," the copper-haired girl said, with Shinji nodding and wandering off.

It was a quick walk over to the auction hall, and this time, he wasn't ignored, but when he checked with Snickersnack, the goblin on duty, about the item he'd put up for sale…

"There is no such item waiting to be sold, nor has such lot been auctioned."

"What?!" the boy exclaimed, wide-eyed. "B-but how can this be? I gave it to you all yesterday!"

"Did you?" Snickersnack inquired, peering at the boy's glowering face. "Are you quite sure?"

"Quite," Shinji ground out. "Could you check again, please?

"Ah, wizards. So excitable," Snickersnack grumbled, flipping open a ledger and skimming over a number of entries. "Ah. I see. It was purchased this morning, by one of our…preferred customers." The diminutive humanoid chuckled, a low, wheezing sound that made the boy wonder if it had some chronic lung disease. "A pity."

"A...pity?" Shinji repeated. "What do you—"

"Why, since it didn't go to auction, then I must assume that whatever deal you negotiated for proceeds from said auction is now null and void, yes?" the goblin asked him, his smile showing off a mouth full of yellow teeth.

Shinji felt a surge of raw, bitter rage welling up in him at the temerity of this… _cheat_ , this _swindler,_ this _creature_ who sought to defraud him of what was rightfully his. He…he would…

"...unless your contract says otherwise?" Snickersnack inquired solicitously, with the goblin seeming bored out of its mind as it looked at him. "Do you have it on you?"

"I uh…no?"

"Then I cannot even begin to help you," the goblin said with finality. "If you wish to persist in this useless questioning, you must speak to Gimblegyre at the bank, as he would have your contract on file." The other huffed. " _I_ simply manage sales."

Before the boy fell victim to a murderous impulse, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the auction house, over to Gringotts in an attempt to get to the bottom of this mess.

' _And if they cheat me…I'll make them all_ _ **PAY.'**_

He barged through the doors, ready to let the leash slip on his temper and reduce the building to a smoking crater should they play any more games with him, but to his surprise, the teller he spoke to brought him to Gimblegyre immediately.

Gimblegyre himself, who Shinji recalled as being far more pleasant to deal with than Snickersnack, welcomed the boy, informing him that his share of the proceeds from the sale, some 60000 Galleons, had been deposited in his account without trouble and thanking him for making use of Gringotts' auction services.

' _Huh?'_

"What." But…the goblin at the auction house had… "What do you mean, it's been deposited into my account?"

"We...apologize if young Snickersnack has caused offense," Gimblegyre said with something close to a sigh. "He is, after all, our newest associate, and not used to...your kind yet."

"I see," Shinji noted, his rage mostly subsiding at the account manager's frank words. "Then, I would like to make a withdraw, if that's quite alright?"

"Feel free," the account manager replied expansively. "Before you do, however, allow me to share with you some of the offers we give to our...preferred customers."

' _Huh?'_

"I'm a preferred customer already? So soon?" the boy asked, confused. "Has there…has there been some mistake?"

"It isn't how long you've been a client that matters, Mister Matou," the goblin said bluntly. "It's the size of your account."

"...ah. And 60,000 Galleons is large enough for me to be a preferred customer."

"Indeed. About twice as much as the minimum threshold."

How unexpectedly forthright.

"Before you decide on a withdrawal amount, however, allow me to share with you some of the special opportunities that we make available to our preferred customers," Gimblegyre grunted, handing him four sheets of paper.

On each was a description of some good or service far out of reach for the ordinary wizard.

The first described a property that had not yet gone on the market – an elegantly appointed country cottage that was fully furnished, and still connected to the Floo Network. Apparently, the goblins would rather avoid some of the usual listing fees required from the Ministry, as well as the trouble of notifying the Department of Magical Transportation (and others) about the intended sale, or that of arranging visits for prospective buyers.

' _I didn't expect a magical world to be so…practical,'_ Shinji thought to himself, feeling amused. _'I guess they want to cut out the middleman.'_

According to the details, what was on offer wasn't a mansion by any means, but it was certainly comfortable enough to be one, even by the standards of the well-to-do, with all the modern amenities and tastefully landscaped grounds one might expect.

' _And it even comes with a House Elf, if I purchase before Christmas,'_ the boy noted, his eyes widening as his eyes passed over a note regarding how the Ministry did not monitor households with registered House Elves for underage magic. _'…huh. Tempting. But is it tempting enough to spend 30,000 Galleons_?'

That was the question.

The second sheet was an investment opportunity provided by the Nimbus Racing Broom Company. Apparently, they were preparing to begin production on the Nimbus 2001, a truly "world-class" broom, offering speed and control unmatched by any broom currently available in Western Europe. The company sought 10,000 Galleons to complete the facilities needed for the production run, and as compensation, was offering the **first ten brooms** off of the production line, with certificates of authenticity and lifetime warranties provided.

' _Hmm. One broom per thousand galleons, huh? I'll have to think about that.'_

He didn't much like flying, but it could be a sound opportunity. He just didn't know enough to ask, really.

Moving onto the third, he found that it was a sheet from a shop called _The Duelist's Wardrobe,_ located on Horizont Alley, which specialized in bespoke garments for duelists and the well-to-do.

'… _this is kind of taking_ "clothes make the man" _to a whole new level.'_

Though…there was some truth to the saying, Shinji mused, given that in his old clothes, he had been considered hired help, while in the garments he'd gotten from Vertic Alley, he at least was seen as someone who deserved a hearing.

Apparently, _The Duelist's Wardrobe_ was offering a full wardrobe of clothing, including several dress robes, a fine winter cloak, a range of clothes for day and evening wear in different situations, even underwear enchanted to keep one comfortable in climes other suffer deeply in for a mere 5000 Galleons. A bargain for any sophisticated wizard of both means and taste.

'… _a bargain? Really?'_

And then there was a sheet about tickets to the Minister's Ball, which was apparently a tradition for the well-to-do of Magical Britain. Every New Year's Eve, the Ministry offered the people of Magical Britain a chance to hobnob with the Minister, his Undersecretaries and the members of the Wizengamot, as a way for the common folk to voice their concerns and meet the people who ran their world.

…assuming they could afford the price of admission, which was either **1500 Galleons** **per ticket (or 2000 for 2)** for regular tickets, and an eye-watering **4500 Galleons** **per ticket** for VIP access.

'… _uh. What. Why would I even…?'_

Even a regular ticket seemed like an obscene amount of money to spend on an event, though he supposed a number of people had to pay for tickets each year, as it wouldn't be a tradition otherwise.

' _But who would even go to something like this?'_

The face of Amber Noel came unbidden to his mind, followed by that of one Lucius Malfoy.

' _Well. Yes. Those two probably would, assuming they knew about it.'_

"…I'm almost afraid to ask, but is there anything else?" Shinji asked.

"We do have other opportunities, but we believe that with your current funds and connections, these are likely to be the ones which interest you most," Gimblegyre related professionally. "Were there any that you were interested in?"

"Uh…" Shinji looked down at the sheets, not sure what he wanted to choose. "Do I have to choose right now?"

"No, of course not. That would be an unreasonable thing to ask," Gimblegyre replied. "However, you will need to your interest or lack thereof by the day after...Christmas, as you wizards put it."

"…I can do that," the boy stated, shaking his head. "Can I keep these briefing sheets?"

"Do as you like," the accounts manager stated. "Now, have you decided how much you wish to withdraw?"

"Two thousand Galleons, I think," Shinji said, shaking his head.

"Very well - shall we record this as your standard request each time you visit Gringotts?" the goblin inquired, with Shinji thinking it over for a moment before nodding. "Excellent. Is there anything else we of Gringotts may do to assist you?"

"...that depends," the boy replied after a moment.

"Yes?"

"I have heard that the goblins once made...fine weapons," Shinji said finally. "And that they are the masters of metalworking in the magical world."

Perhaps that was laying it on a bit thick, but Shinji didn't think that most beings would be insulted by a bit of flattery.

Quite the opposite, in fact, in his experience.

"And you wish to commission a sword?" the goblin account manager asked, a detached, almost clinical expression on his face, as if he'd heard this one before. "Or some other display of goblin metalwork."

"...I was thinking about a knife, actually," the boy corrected, frowning at the goblin's presumption. "Well, something like a dagger."

"Hm. More practical than what some have asked for," the goblin admitted grudgingly. "What type of dagger did you have in mind?"

"Well…"

Shinji thought about the types of knives or daggers that he'd seen and read about, and what he might find useful. He already had a basic utility knife, since he'd had to buy one for Potions, so he didn't think getting another one would be too useful, but…

"How about a throwing knife?" the boy asked. "The length of…oh, a wand?"

Gimblegyre just _looked_ at him.

"A knife the length of a wand may as well be a short sword," the goblin said dryly. "But I suppose that is possible. But a throwing knife…?" Gimblegyre peered at the boy more intently. "Do you practice knife-throwing?"

"…no?"

The goblin made a small sound that might have been a sigh or a snort of disgruntlement.

"Well, you are the customer," the account manager noted placidly. "Will you be desiring some measure of enchantment or...?"

"...no, that's fine," Shinji said quickly. "Just the knife is enough."

"Very well. I will deduct an additional five hundred galleons from your balance, then?"

"Yes. Fair enough."

With that, Shinji's business was all but concluded, as a goblin brought him the money he'd requested, and he was about to go, when—

"If I may, young wizard…?" Gimblegyre's voice followed him.

"…yes?"

"You may wish to consider buying a scabbard for that knife of yours. And perhaps a holster for your wand, if you have any desire to use them…practically," the goblin rasped. "Should you simply wish a blade for ornamentation, feel free to disregard my advice. Wizards so often do, after all."

* * *

As he left Gringotts, flush with funds, Shinji found that Gimblegyre's suggestion stayed with him, with the boy mulling over what practitioners of witchcraft tended to do with their wands when they weren't using them, or indeed, other weapons.

Mostly, from what he'd seen, people kept their wands in an inside pocket of their robes, or in their back pocket for quick access, if they carried them on their person. Otherwise, they would just put their wands in their bags, or by their bedside.

' _That's not very…practical,'_ the boy thought to himself.

After all, for those who sought to be duelists – or to look the part – it was important to have one's implement always close at hand, while not keeping the owner from having free use of their hands (for the situations when they weren't currently dueling).

So he found himself back in Vertic Alley, looking for a place that looked like it might offer a good deal on wand holsters and other related products.

There were a few shops, none really with prices better than another, and all of them willing to speak about the wares they crafted.

Mostly, what they offered came down to three basic sorts of products:

Holsters of cloth, meant to be worn on the inside of the arm, inside one's robes, into which one could slot a wand.

Holsters of leather, bulkier than those of cloth, which could be modified so that a _twist-snap_ motion would let the wand drop easily into the wand hand.

Holsters made of exotic materials, with various additional features beyond those offered by those wrought of the more pedestrian materials.

And when he asked, the shopkeepers were more than happy to discuss a wide range of customization options, such as enchantments to make the holster invisible, charms which allowed only the person who had bought the holster to remove a wand from it, or anti-theft features which cursed anyone who stole a holster from the owner. Some higher-end holsters were more like spell-resistant bracers or gauntlets, and could accommodate knives, lenses, or other ritual tools. Some incorporated the features of a probity probe or a sneakoscope. And some, at the very highest end, even could function like a two-way mirror, allowing one to communicate with a partner wearing a paired counterpart.

He dithered and dallied, and groused (and moaned about the cost), but in the end, agreed to buy a number of holsters – partially because he wanted to get gifts for his friends, and partially because the shops had a buy one get one some percentage off deal.

For himself, two bracer-variants: one wrought of basilisk skin, and one of wyvern-hide, each with a number of useful modifications, like anti-theft functionality and communication functions. His basilisk skin holster was even capable of storing something like a throwing knife safely, and had some features that would allow a duplicate knife to come into his hand while preserving the original.

For Miyuki-senpai, a basilisk skin holster exactly like the one he'd bought for himself – and paired with it, so he could always reach her.

For Natsumi, a wyvern-hide bracer like the one he'd bought for himself – and why not, since she was his closest friend.

For each of the Noel twins, a holster made of leather, with enchantments to make them more durable and render them – and the wands they contained – invisible when worn, plus the duelist modification so they could access their wands with a quick snap-twist.

And for Selina and Ernie, a holster made of leather without the duelist modification.

He was given a receipt in writing and told they would arrive in time for Christmas – after which he left Vertic Alley quite a bit (1280 Galleons) poorer than when he set food in it.

On the bright side, it wasn't as if he had to pay for Selina's purchases today, since Phelan had already offered, though the petite blonde just ended up buying a barn owl for herself at the low, low price of 10 galleons, along with a few books to give as gifts, and some sweets, for a total of 50 galleons.

As such, he ended up buying some gifts for some of the people back at home.

For instance, a Fire Crab for Tohsaka, a toad for his… _sister_ and Lacewing Flies for his grandfather.

And since he didn't want to be caught unarmed, he decided to make an additional stop at Ollivanders, where the silvery eyed man sold him a curious wand of wrought of holly, with a phoenix feather core.


	26. Shadows

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 25.** _Shadows_

Matou Shinji dreamed, and in the dream, he found himself walking along a secluded forest path, the dappled sun shining down as he made his way, a bounce in his step and a name on the tip of his tongue. Around him, the woods were vast and dark and deep, its eerie quiet a far cry from the raucous nature of the city and its hubbub, or the controlled chaos of Hogwarts.

A sword was held loosely in his hand – a jet black rapier, gleaming softly in the shadows.

 _'Interpreter. Wanderer, far from home,'_ the wind whispered as he passed. _'An answer to my question, give.'_

But the boy walked on, unhearing.

 _'What dost thou seek, oh Shadowed One? Where dost thou go, with thy fate in tatters?'_

The zephyrs dogged his steps, but he could not perceive them, his mind too focused on his goal, on…

On what?

The name escaped him.

Still, it didn't matter – he'd reach it if he kept walking, kept putting one foot in front of the other.

He was sure of it.

And sure enough, after a small eternity, he came to the very eaves of the forest, with the walls of a familiar castle looming in the distance.

Hogwarts.

' _There…my goal is…'_

But something was wrong.

Try as he might, he couldn't step beyond the boundary of the forest, for the wind itself hindered him, forming an invisible wall that he could not bypass, could not slip by.

 _'Traveler met by a terrible fate. Answer true and you may pass.'_

He didn't hear – perhaps couldn't hear – the whisperings low and deep, and so all he could do was throw himself fruitlessly against the wall of wind. Over and over and over, until before his eyes he saw an explosion of darkness erupting from within the walls of the school, and its tallest tower crumbling.

' _No…no…!'_

And falling from that tower, a lone figure.

The slim figure of the one whose name was on his lips, whose face was on his mind, seeming so frail as she plummeted towards the earth, her eyes closed, almost as if she had made peace with the fact that—

 _ **"SENPAI!"**_

* * *

When Matou Shinji awakened from his fevered dreams, he found himself very, very shaken. Why? Why was he dreaming of things like this? Was it because of his encounter with the wielder of the Fifth Magic yesterday? Was it…stress? Was it…he didn't know.

' _There's too much I don't know.'_ That was it, wasn't it? Even if it was the holidays… _'I don't have time to play around.'_

He said as much to Amber after she woke him from where he'd fallen asleep while reading from _Digging Two Graves,_ but…

"Oh? You want to study today?" the copper-haired girl echoed, blinking as her hand twitched, as if she wanted to rest it on the pommel of a rapier that wasn't hanging at her waist. The girl sighed. "You know, all work and no play makes Matou Shinji a very dull boy."

Well…it wasn't as if he could really argue with that.

He _was_ quite dull, in all honesty, with few of his accomplishments actually his own.

Beating Quirrell's challenge – a fluke that occurred because he was…because there was a strange power sleeping inside him that no one could have foreseen. Being praised as one who tried to save Filch – ha! His actions had probably killed the man.

' _Even getting a good deal on that bit of basilisk skin was Amber's doing. I have to get stronger, to learn more…to be able…'_

…if he was stronger, then maybe senpai…maybe she…she wouldn't…

"Mister Matou, it's the winter holidays. Whyever are you spending so much time reading from that book?" she questioned, noting that it was in fact, the same book he'd been reading yesterday morning. "Is it that much more interesting than spending time with me?"

"I, uh, no. Not at all!" Shinji insisted, his face reddening in embarrassment that she had asked him so... _directly_. "I...just...I was just...I got caught up in reading it," he whispered, looking down.

"I suppose I can understand that," the copper-haired girl allowed. "So, what's the book about?" She raised an eyebrow. "It isn't pictures of naked girls or something like that is—"

"NO!" Shinji exclaimed, desperation and horror writ large across his features as he jumped to his feet, looking at Amber, almost begging her to believe him. "I'm...I'm not—"

"Then what is it?" she asked, more gently this time.

"...curses..." he mumbled, almost too softly for the girl to hear.

Almost.

"Say that again, Mister Matou?" the girl requested, a strange edge to her voice.

"...curses..." he repeated. Surely, she'd find something like this...unsightly. Think poorly of him, since in Magical Britain, the emphasis was on defending against the Dark Arts, rejecting the very nature of what _he_ had understood to be witchcraft.

Surely, now that she knew what a foul creature he was, how mired in the dark he was, she would—

"Again, please?" she asked sweetly.

"...cur—" the boy's words died in his mouth as realization struck. "You…you're making fun of me, aren't you?"

Amber only giggled.

"Well, maybe a little. You're somewhat cute when you're angry," the girl commented, a warm smile gracing her features, as she moved closer to him. "It suits you more than being gloomy all the time."

Shinji's face went red.

"I…c-cute? Me?" he squeaked, swallowing. He'd never been…people didn't just…

"Yes, you. You and I are the only ones here, so else would I be calling cute?" the copper-haired girl said slyly, placing a finger on his chest.

' _I…uh…westerners are…very bold…'_

Not that he _disliked_ such a thing but…

"Still, you had a very interesting reaction just then," she continued, her finger tracing small circles on his body. "So…curses, huh? Why those?"

"...my family used to specialize in something like them," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. "Well. Until my grandfather's generation, anyway."

"Oh, so you were…a line of dark wizards or something?" Amber inquired, her finger growing still as her curiosity was piqued.

"…something like that?" the boy offered, staggering as a jolt of pain and fury lanced through him, his consciousness seeming to shrink for a moment before he forced the surging emotions back. He couldn't – no – not now – not like this. He…

"…fair enough," Amber allowed, stepping back. "I'm sorry if I brought up some bad memories."

"You…you couldn't have known," Shinji said with a pained smile. "I'll…let's just say there's a reason I'm not back in Japan for the holidays."

"Ah…"

Though, if he thought about it, given his grandfather's possession of a journal that had once belonged to a Russian "hero of light", it was…possible that Zouken may have once been thought of as a dark wizard, Shinji supposed, but it wasn't as if he would ever meet anyone who would remember such a time. He doubted anyone his grandfather called troublesome would have been allowed to live – or to have descendants, after all.

"And...I'm sorry, if I've been odd," the boy murmured. "It's just that, after yesterday's encounter with that Magician, I've been feeling…strange."

"Well, I suppose you _are_ a boy," the copper-haired girl said archly. "And that staring at the chest of a beautiful older woman for so long _would_ make you feel…strange."

"T-that's not it at all!" Shinji denied, waving his hands frantically, any enjoyment he'd felt long erased. "Please I, I don't, I'm...I was..."

"...you were frightened of her."

Shinji swallowed. "...you noticed?"

"I notice a great many things, Mister Matou. Like the fact that you never really answered my question about who or what she was," she noted quietly. "You just said that she was more of a monster than you, which frankly speaking, isn't that difficult."

"You'd be surprised..." the boy trailed off, recalling all too vividly the time he'd transformed into a demon of destruction intent on murdering Granger until Sokaris had…somehow…stopped him.

"Oh?"

"I…" he sighed, looking down at his feet as he wondered what to tell her. "...do you really want to know?"

"It would be nice to know _something_ about the boy I invited into my home," Amber replied sardonically. "Especially if it explains why he's secluded himself in his guest room, isn't being very social, oh, and is keeping secrets – like the fact that he's studying curses, of all things."

There was silence for a minute.

Two minutes.

Five.

And then...

"If what we can do through mere thaumaturgy replicates what science can do with enough time and effort, those called Magicians wield a power that transcends the limits of science. They are monsters whose existence breaks the very rules of the world," Shinji whispered at last, his voice very small indeed. "Today…in all of the world, there are only Five True Magics, and only two Magicians. The woman we met was one of them."

"Ah."

Amber was momentarily speechless, as she'd never seen her friend quite like this before.

"Even if I were to become the greatest practitioner of witchcraft in the world, someone like her could crush me as easily as a titan idly stepping on an ant," the boy stated bluntly, looking at his hands. "Compared to someone like Miss Blue...I may as well be nothing. No. Less than nothing."

"Matou, don't…you shouldn't call yourself that."

"Even when its true?"

"A titan on..." Amber looked somewhat uneasy at this. "...people like that exist in this world?"

"...what is the quote from Shakespeare that Selina is so fond of? _'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy,'_ " the boy offered weakly. "They exist, though I'm not sure I'd call them people. Not after becoming what they are."

"...you're afraid you'll see one of them again," Amber realized, her eyes widening. "That's why you don't want to go outside. But—"

" _I know_ ," the boy interrupted. "I know we probably won't. Not if there are only two of them in the world. I know that up here," he said, tapping his temple. "But not here," he whispered, clutching his chest. And if one of the Magicians hadn't taken an… _interest_ in him, then, well, all bets were off.

"I see," Amber murmured, walking up to him and resting her arms on his shoulders.

 _'Eh. Eh? Eh?!'_ Shinji thought to himself, his face reddening by the second at how close she was to him. At the fact that she was t-t-touching him. "Wa...wawawaw..."

"I guess there's no helping it. We'll spend today at the house with you," the copper-haired girl offered. "I presume there's something you want to do besides reading?"

"Well, um...practicing magic?"

"Oh?" Amber asked. "But doesn't that break a Ministry edict or something? Something about underage use of magic?"

Shinji shivered as he felt her breath on his skin – against his lips.

"Ahhh...I...P-p-professor Quirrell gave me a Cast-A-Spell Kit," he stammered, swallowing as he saw how close her l-l-lips were to his. How moist. How... "We should be able to." He swallowed. "Do what. We want. Without anyone seeing."

"...without anyone seeing, hm? So even if they were naughty things, no one would see them?" she teased, leaning closer to him, her warmth nothing short of intoxicating to the young boy. "Is that what you had in mind, Mister Matou?"

"I..." Shinji's brain shut down, with the boy closing his eyes as it seemed he was going to be kissed once more.

Only, the kiss never came.

Instead, he felt cold all of the sudden as the girl pulled away, straightening her hair.

"Well, I'll leave you to get ready then," the girl answered, with a small smile. "I'm looking forward to whatever you have in mind, Mister Matou."

With that, she turned and walked out the door, with Matou Shinji collapsing to his hands and knees, panting.

 _'I...she...we...uh...'_

His face was completely red – and so too the rest of his skin. He felt... _hot_ , as if something strange had woken up. He was…thirsty. So very thirsty. He needed...a tall drink of water, at least.

Or a shower. A cold, cold shower.

Yes. That might work.

But what to do after?

'… _well, I shouldn't keep her waiting. I guess we'll practice some spells…'_

And hopefully – if all went well, he wouldn't be receiving some sort of citation for breaking the law.

* * *

At first, things seemed to go well, with the twins both fairly impressed with the functionality of Shinji's _Cast-a-Spell Kit ,_ which not only included a handbook on how to perform certain spells (ranging from basic things like the Full Body Bind to more advanced spells like the Patronus – though it came with the disclaimer that some spells were best practiced with supervision), but a fully furnished training area in which one could practice such spells.

"So how does this work, exactly?" Phelan asked, with the young noble seemingly interested as he looked about the fully furnished practice room, noting the mannequins, the shelves laden with books and the study area, with tables and chairs – and good lighting. "Is this…an actual space? With all these books and everything?"

"Not…exactly?" Shinji replied. He'd read the manual that had come with the Kit, and grasped some of the mechanics, though the rest were somewhat beyond him. "Its…well, the manual calls it a virtual space. I guess it's like the Book of Spells, where its feeding information to our minds? Just, this room is all there is – we can't create new scenarios."

"…that's a little disappointing," Amber noted, though as she ran her fingers over the ribbed spines of the books on the shelves, she was rather astonished at how real it felt. "I guess a book like that wouldn't be something that would just be given out though, huh?"

Phelan, however, noticed something else about their current situation.

"…wait, then if we're not _actually_ casting spells, then how do we gain the benefits?"

"You're still moving around and working on your willpower," Shinji stated. "At least these virtual bodies are. I didn't understand half of what it said, honestly."

"Huh. Just one thing," Amber asked.

"Yeah?"

"If we practice transfiguration here, do we actually transform something? Or does whatever we think we do vanish when we leave?"

"Maybe? I don't actually know," the boy admitted. "I'm pretty sure the room is always reset when we leave though, so maybe we'd have to bring something from outside if we actually wanted to transfigure something. Or maybe we aren't actually transfiguring something. I'm not sure."

"Eh, only one way to find out," Phelan said, with a grin, making a beeline for a book entitled _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts,_ his wand already in his hand.

"I'm going to practice combining spell and blade," Amber declared, tapping the goblin-silver rapier at her waist. "A rapier is something to be used in one hand, after all, and a wand could be quite a bit better than a shield or a knife."

Shinji privately thought that maybe it would be better just to dual-wield wands, since spells had a longer range than any blade, but then, it wasn't as if it was a common thing for someone to have more than one wand.

' _And yet, I have three…'_

His original wand, with a blackened worm core bound in cherry.

The wand from Sokaris, with a core of unicorn hair encased in willow - one of the first gifts he'd ever received from a girl.

And then the odd holly and phoenix feather wand he'd bought from Ollivander yesterday.

' _I don't even know why I have three…it's not as if I have three hands.'_ Maybe if he had an invisible hand of magic power that could cast spells or something, like some adventurers could conjure forth (according to Selina), he'd have a need for three, but as it was, he could only really use two – at most. _'I'm not even great at using one, but maybe I could try two…?'_

But which ones?

' _The worm and cherry in my right hand,'_ he decided, retrieving it from the bag he'd brought in with him. _'The holly and phoenix in my left.'_

And what to do with them?

Charms? No…there was no point if he was just casting with one at a time, or using both for the same spell. He needed to be able to use both for different effects – _simultaneously_.

' _I know. Transfiguration. I'll transform with one hand and undo with the other…huh. Creation in one hand, destruction in the other – I like the sound of that.'_

And not because it reminded him of some super sentai show.

Really.

Still, taking the image in his mind and turning it into reality was more difficult than it seemed, since he was trying to use _Avifors_ , to turn a chair into a swarm of birds, and then to undo the transformation – somehow.

Somehow….

' _It's not working.'_

He tried focusing on what he was doing, pouring power into his right hand, but there was little effect. Transfiguration had never been easy for him to begin with, and it wasn't as if his wand was helping, as it seemed to resist transformation.

' _Maybe the other arm?'_

Birds.

Birds everywhere.

But why.

How?

Why so many?

' _Turn back. Turn back. Turn back,' h_ e thought, trying to will the swarm of golden birds to return to being a chair. But it wasn't working.

' _Why…?'_

Why was this happening? Why, when everyone else seemed to have things come so easily to them? People like his _sister._ People like _Tohsaka_ , who had everything handed to him. Why…why…why...why….

A wave of darkness erupted from the wand in his right hand, and the birds crumbled to sawdust.

' _Huh…that's not…'_

…that wasn't a successful untransfiguration.

 **Again.**

 _'Why.. ? This chair...'_

Once more, birds took flight.

Once more, they shattered into sawdust.

 **Again.**

Birds.

Sawdust.

 **AGAIN.**

 _'...This chair...'_

 **Birds.**

 **Sawdust.**

 _ **AGAIN!**_

 _'This chair._ _This chair._ _This chair._ ** _This chair!_** _'_

His head throbbed, his vision narrowing to a point as blood pounded in his skull.

Why?

Why?

 _ **WHY?!**_

This...this—

"—Matou, are you alright?"

Shinji found himself dropping both of his wands as if burned as Amber's face suddenly appeared in front of his, the touch of her hands cutting through the haze of his mounting frustration like a lightning through the clouds. He felt unsteady, as if something toxic had been rushing through his veins, had been tearing through his mind and body, as if—

"Huh…?"

 _'Bleeding...I'm...my hand is...'_

"…you…weren't yourself, just now," the copper-haired girl said in a small voice. "There was…" she swallowed. "There was darkness all around you. A strange haze that seemed to eat through the ground."

' _No…that's can't…'_

"I'm…"

"You seemed…dangerous," she added, looking at him with concern. "Is…is something wrong?"

"It's…it's nothing," the boy stated, before pulling away. Had he…had he almost…? "Everything's fine. Just…fine."

Even if, on the outside of his wands, there was a dark pattern forming that looked almost like fingers, and from them rose the smell of wood, lightly burned.


	27. Conversant Echoes

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 26.** _Conversant Echoes_

The sun set, and after another night at Exton Hall, Matou Shinji fell into the pattern of a dream.

In the dream, he was creeping stealthily through the darkened halls of a building that seemed somewhat familiar, his eyes narrowed as beings of shadows leapt at him - and were cleaved in twain by the shining rapier in one hand.

 _'Yes. Yes. You, -, have no chance against me!'_ he thought, his lips curving into a cruel smile as he brought up his wand, a bolt of green light leaping from it to the chest of a man who was just coming down a set of stairs. _'You. All of you. You who stole everything from me. I'll kill you._ _ **I'LL KILL YOU!**_ _'_

Seeing that insignificant man crumple lifelesly to the floor, the boy laughed and waved his wand, reducing the cretin to ashes.

 _'More...more...MORE!'_ the darkness in him demanded, as he made his way up the stairs towards the room the curses were coming from, letting his anger shroud him in its power. They dared - all of them dared - to laugh at him, to mock him. To cast him away.

No more.

He would cast down the false one, crush the usurper's hopes and dreams underfoot, steal everything from her, as she had stolen everything from him.

Claws and ribbons of shadow came forth, to bind him and tear him apart, but they were absorbed, for they were as nothing before the miasma pouring from his body. The foolish one who thought she could stop him merely used curses - he was a curse. He was destruction incarnate, as he gave himself over to his rage, his hatred, his desire to devour all in his path.

More and more spells came at him, yet they could do naught to him, whether gandrs or bursting gems or claws of imprisoning darkness.

The door before him disintegrated into splinters, with a young girl looking up at him, her expression consumed with terror.

"Nii...san"

"Hello, sister," he snarled, ramming the rapier through her chest, savouring the look of shock and betrayal on her features as the life faded from her eyes, and her heartbeat...ceased.

 _Yes. Yes. YES._

The one he hated most in the world was...was...

Huh...

Everything was...dissolving? The world around him, fading?

Wait...this wasn't...why was he?

"Kehehehe..." a sound rang out from behind him, no - from all around him. "My worthless grandson, did you really think you had a chance?"

The boy found himself driven to his knees by the killing intent of the monster - the monster hidden from his sight.

"I...I'll win. I stopped _her_ , didn't I?"

"Did you, boy? Take a closer look."

Unable to disobey, the boy did, with his legs collapsing under him as he did.

 _No._ _ **No...**_

His rapier was run through someone, all right. But it wasn't Matou Sakura...

"Kuku...do you see what you did? With your own hands, the one you killed was..."

It...it couldn't be.

 **NO.**

 _'It...it's not real.'_

"Accept it, boy. This is what you are. A disappointment to all around you. Especially those foolish enough to trust a monster."

 **No.**

This...it...why...

It was...

 _ **"SENPAI!"**_

* * *

Matou Shinji awoke screaming as he fell out of his chair, knocking it over as he collapsed to his hands and knees. It...it had only been a dream, but it had felt so real. The feeling of a heart growing still, a body growing cold, of life - senpai's life - leaving her eyes, because of him.

A monster.

He sobbed, shaking uncontrollably at the thought that he...that he might...

 _'I...I...'_

Such a being. Such a worthless being like him, who only hurt those around him. Who had grown arrogant in his strength. Such a Matou Shinji should...should...

"Matou..." a voice whispered from the open doorway, with the boy listlessly raising his head and looking at...

Warmth.

All of the sudden, he was surrounded by warmth as...

 _'I'm being hugged...?'_ he slowly realized, having never really experienced such a thing before.

"Why...?" he croaked out.

"Your expression just now. It was like you wanted to die..." Amber replied, her arms tightening around him.

"...better that someone like me...someone like me dies than...than..."

"...Lady Tsuji would be hurt if you died," the copper-haired girl said, with the boy stiffening. "And so would Nats. And me."

...how? How did she?

"...l-lady Tsuji...?" he repeated lifelessly, his body shaking uncontrollably as her words brought up the image of senpai impaled upon his sword, her eyes...her eyes not even looking at him with hatred, even when he killed her.

"You look at her a lot, you know," the girl commented, with something like a sad chuckle. "As if she was the sun, and you were the moon, only glowing in her light."

"..."

Shinji couldn't think of anything to say.

"I-it's not as if..."

"Hey. It alright to look. I look at her too."

The boy's expression went slack.

"Huh?" he asked intelligently.

"...just...sometimes it's worth looking around, seeing what else the world has to offer, you know?"

"...to...offer? What would the world offer to someone..." His voice hitched and he swallowed. "...someone like me?"

"Heh. Boys are so dense..." she chuckled. "Shall we go somewhere today? Away from all...this?"

"...okay."

* * *

As it happened, what Amber had in mind – after Shinji had calmed down, showered, and changed, was a trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, the birthplace – and final resting place – of William Shakespeare, thought to be Britain greatest playwright. It was her hope that a change in scenery would help shake poor Matou out of the funk he'd been in these last few days, as she was quite worried about him.

"…we're riding one of these again?" Shinji commented on seeing the choice of transportation, a Rolls-Royce limousine.

"It will take about two hours to get there, so we might as well be comfortable," the earl's daughter remarked. "And…it will give us some time to talk."

"To…talk, you say," Shinji noted quietly, looking back and forth, and carefully not meeting Amber's eyes. "About what, I wonder?"

"…whatever you want to share," the copper-haired girl answered. "I'm not going to push. Not after seeing how troubled you are."

The Japanese boy's expression only grew more complicated when he heard her words.

"Sorry…for worrying you," he whispered.

"Don't apologize about something like that. We're friends. Friends worry about each other, you know?" Amber said gently, resting her hand on the boy's arm.

"Then, what about Phelan?" Shinji quipped. "Does he worry about anyone at all?"

The moment words left his mouth, he felt a hint of regret, as he remembered how much the other boy had worried about Granger and Weasley after seeing them injured on the train.

"That brother of mine is a bit dense, but he's still well-meaning," the earl's daughter allowed, shaking her head. "He just has a funny way of showing he cares about people. Well, except if you're a pretty girl, in which case he'll act like a gallant knight for you."

"Heh."

"Well, except if you're his sister, then he treats you like a nuisance," Amber quipped.

"Heh. Well… _sisters_ …sometimes are," Shinji said after a few moments, thinking about the _Tohsaka_ who had stolen—

"—tou. Matou!"

He came to with Amber shaking him, with his heart racing and feeling like it was hard to breathe.

"Are you ok?" the copper-haired girl asked with some concern. "You just looked like you were pretty far away just now. Or like you were about to collapse?"

"I'm…I'm fine," the boy said, not wanting to worry her.

"Oh, honestly. Would it kill you not to try and carry everything by yourself one of these days?"

"Huh?" Shinji asked intelligently.

"…you and Lady Tsuji have a lot in common after all," she muttered, almost too quietly for the boy to hear. "Come on. Get in."

"Is…is Phelan not coming with us?" the boy hazarded. Would it…would it be just the two of them? Like a-a d-d- _date_?

"He's probably at the memorial garden, so we'll just pick him up from there."

"Oh…"

The boy from the east wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed to hear that, but went ahead and got in the car, marveling at the luxury of it.

"Like it?" Amber asked, as she squeezed in next to him and took his hand, as if to reassure him that things would be ok.

"…yeah. I do," he whispered, looking at their conjoined hands.

* * *

Just as Amber had thought, Phelan _was_ indeed at the memorial garden, but he wasn't alone. She found him in conversation with one Nymphadora Tonks, who was asking him about his time at Hogwarts, and what things were like with Quirrell as the Defense Professor.

"It's just that I never thought that he would teach Defense," Tonks was saying when Amber walked up to them. "He was always teaching Muggle Studies for a while, after all. I always thought he'd take over History from Binns. But Defense…?" The young woman shook her head. "He always seemed so gentle."

"…gentle? Really?" the copper-haired girl interjected. "That's not at all how Professor Quirrell seems now."

"Well, they say people are full of surprises," the Auror trainee allowed. "And I guess he's trying to give his best, since he probably won't be Defense Professor next year."

"Huh. Why's that?" Phelan asked, looking stricken. "Why would he—"

"The position's cursed. Anyone who tries to last more than a year…" Tonks shook her head. "I'll tell you wot, it was right tough getting qualified to become an Auror with a different teacher every year."

"…that sounds pretty difficult," Amber sympathized. "But if there's a curse on the position, why not just make a new position that teaches the same thing? And leave the old post unfilled?"

"Because the curse isn't that easy to fool. Dumbledore's tried," the Auror trainee noted. "And no one really wants to only have a job for a year. You need money to live, after all."

"Funny. You'd think magic could let you just make everything you need out of thin air," Phelan grumbled.

"Yeah, I thought that too, but magic doesn't work like that. You can't make things like food out of nothing, even if you can duplicate it," Tonks noted, shrugging. "And even the things you can make, like living space, it's not allowed."

"…it's not?" Amber echoed. "Really?"

"Yeah. Don't look at me wot, I don't make the laws," the Hogwarts alumna mumbled.

"You just have to enforce them?"

"One day. When I become a full Auror," Tonks sighed. "It isn't easy, you know. Won't be, even when training is done."

"Is anything worth doing, ever really easy?" Amber questioned. "At least you're following your dreams, right?"

"Heh. There's that."

There was a moment of silence, and then…

"Brother, I was going to ask if you wanted to come to Stratford-upon-Avon," the copper-haired girl said, turning to the earl's son. "Father left us the car for today, and I thought Matou could use a change of scenery."

"Is his head buried in a book _again_?" the Gryffindor boy asked, somewhat exasperated. "I thought that today, we might finally look at the ruins. Or the mine!"

"Not today, brother," Amber said, biting her lip. "Actually…he woke up screaming." She shook her head. "I'm a little worried. I think he's been having bad dreams for a while."

"Bad dreams…huh?" Tonks echoed quietly.

"Yeah. Say, as an Auror, you know about things like nightmares and curses and stuff, right?"

"Wot about it?"

"…want to come along with us? I think Matou could use someone else to talk to. Someone who knows a bit more about this kind of thing."

"Heh. I guess it's my day off. And I always did want to see what it was like to ride in a car."

Phelan blinked.

"You've…you've never ridden in—"

"Witch."

"Oh. Then…"

"Yes. This will be my first time," Tonks murmured huskily, glancing at Phelan with half-lidded eyes. "Please be gentle."

To his credit, Phelan Noel did not pass out from embarrassment.

But only just.

* * *

Shinji was rather surprised when Tonks came to join them, but accepted it as just one of those things that happen sometimes, and well – he thought it was a good chance to ask the older Hufflepuff about how to deal with things like bad dreams.

"That's a tough one. Many things can cause bad dreams. Sometimes it's a simple as eating something you don't agree with," Tonks explained, before her expression grew serious. "Other times, it can be something less...obvious." She tilted her head. "Did something troubling happen recently?"

"He ran into someone who...terrified him, a few days ago," Amber supplied, with Phelan looking puzzled by this.

"The person in the museum?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow, failing to notice as Shinji tensed - though Amber certainly did, as she was holding his hand. "Really? I'd have thought you'd have...well, not bad dreams about—ow!"

Amber promptly smacked him, with Phelan shooting his sister a look.

"What was that for?" the earl's son asked, indignant at the rough conduct his sister of all people, was displaying.

"You know what."

"What's so bad about talking about someone like...like you-know-who?" he amended, flinching away from Amber's glare, and upraised hand.

Tonks, also in the car, had gone very-very still.

"...You-Know-Who?" Tonks repeated, her voice low and seemingly shaken, her posture quite stiff. "You saw...You-Know-Who?"

Shinji blinked.

"What?" he asked with some confusion. "Oh...you know...You-Know-Who?" He supposed that there might be some overlap, given they were both part of the magical world, but he didn't think magi - or Magicians - would bother with practitioners of witchcraft...

"...what are you saying? How can there be anyone who doesn't know about You-Know-Who?!" Tonks replied, her voice perhaps a bit higher than it should be.

The Japanese boy blinked again.

"Do you have any advice for dealing with…You-Know-Who? In case I run into—"

"Are you saying...you ran into him?" Tonks interrupted, her face a mask of horror. "That he's... _alive_?"

"Well, if I ran into…" Shinji trailed off, sharing a _look_ with Amber as he realized that Tonks had said _him,_ not _her._ "...actually I'm not sure we're talking about the same person," the Japanese boy said after a minute. "You... _are_ talking about Miss Blue, yes?"

"Miss...Blue?" Tonks echoed, now utterly confused. "No. Who's Miss Blue?"

"Oh," Shinji said, feeling somewhat disappointed. "So…you _don't_ know her. I thought..." He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what I thought."

"But who's this other You-Know-Who?" Amber asked of the Auror trainee. "Someone who is supposed to be dead?"

"...what are they teaching at Hogwarts these days?" Tonks muttered, shaking her head, still flustered. "The Dark Lord."

"The...Dark Lord?" Shinji echoed, looking at his first-year friends. "Uh...did Binns cover that in history, because...?"

Amber rubbed her eyes with her free hand.

"...he's covered a number of thing, but no one who was described as a Dark Lord," she supplied, recalling from Natsumi that Shinji always slept through that particular class. "Unless...do you mean that Voldemort fellow I read about in one of Phelan's books? The one who blew himself up with his own spell while trying to kill a baby?"

Tonks twitched at how casually they mentioned that name.

"...I suppose that's one way to describe what happened."

"Huh. Are people really that scared of someone long dead?" Phelan asked, because to an eleven-year-old, something that happened a decade ago was a very long time indeed.

"It's..." Tonks began, shaking her head. "It's a long story." She turned her attention back to Shinji. "I believe you were talking about dreams though?" she asked, clearly trying to change the topic. "Wotever the cause, I've always found a good snog helps me forget," Tonks teased, with Shinji looking...confused.

"A snog? What's that?" he asked, puzzled.

"Ah. You don't..." Tonks chuckled. "Once more, what are they teaching at Hogwarts these days? A good snog, wot? A kiss? A cuddle? A bit of necking, eh? Touching your lips to someone else's lips...or other parts. You know, doing what feels good." Tonks continued to give examples and synonyms, as Shinji grew redder and redder and redder, till his cheeks resembled a particularly ripe tomato.

"A-a-a-a, " Shinji stammered, his voice a shaky falsetto as all kinds of images raced through his mind. "I-I-I-I-"

"Wotcher sayin'? Surely you and this pretty girl have snogged at least once?" Tonks teased, with a delicate flush creeping over Amber's features, and Phelan just glaring. "Heh. Right. Firsties and all. Innocent as the virgin snow," she muttered. She shook her head, as if remembering that she wasn't talking to people her age. "You've tried Dreamless Sleep potions?"

Shinji nodded.

"Madam Pomfrey said I shouldn't take them too often though," the boy replied quietly. "That it wouldn't be good for me if I did."

"She's not wrong," Tonks agreed, shaking her head. "Well, a couple things then."

"Hm?"

"Sometimes, it helps to have someone to talk to about wots botherin' you," the Auror trainee noted. "Or at least to write it down so it isn't just bouncing in your head all day and night." She nodded slowly. "You could also try tensing and relaxing your muscles, or drinking warm milk."

"Nothing else, huh?" Shinji asked, though really, he hadn't expected much.

"...well, there's one other thing," Tonks said after a moment. "But it only works if you have someone good at coming up with stories."

"Oh, and what might that be?" Amber inquired.

"It's a group thing. Roleplaying, I think someone called it?" the Hogwarts alumna recalled. "When you walk through some of the events which bothered you, and reach a different conclusion."

"...I think I might have someone in mind to help with that," Amber noted, with a slight smile.

"Eh?" Shinji asked, blinking. "Who...?"

Amber only chuckled.

"All in due time, Mister Matou."


	28. Musings on the Road

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 27.** _Musings on the Road_

Things were silent for a time in the passenger compartment of the limousine, after having discussed such weighty topics. Shinji, at least, didn't have much to say, looking out the window as the scenery sped by, a mottled landscape of whites and browns and greens.

' _I thought the West would be more colorful, but it isn't…it's just like rural Japan.'_

Well, the houses looked different, but that was a minor thing, really, failing to distract him from his turbulent thoughts.

Between the talk of snogging and dogging and what have you, his mind was in no fit state to concentrate on serious matters, as it kept jumping from visions of murder to lechery and back, despite his best efforts to focus on something else. Anything else.

Which was why it was a welcome thing when Phelan, of all people, broke the silence.

"So, Miss Tonks, who's this Dark Lord fellow?" Phelan asked, his attention fixed on the Auror trainee, who for her part, had just discovered the mini-fridge in the limousine and had proceeded to pour herself a drink. "And why do people call him You-Know-Who?"

"Mm, I'm curious too," Amber chimed in. "That seems like it could lead to some big misunderstandings."

Indeed, such a misunderstanding had occurred only minutes ago, when the Hogwarts alumna had panicked, thinking that the "You-Know-Who" they had been talking about was some long-fallen villain returned to life.

"...I thought everyone knew about him," Tonks replied, after emptying her glass in a single go with. "Huh. It's not firewhiskey, but it's not bad," she mused aloud, frowning as she noticed Matou Shinji looking over at her, his featured pinched and disapproving. "What?"

 _'...drinking all the time. Just like_ that man _,'_ the Japanese boy thought with disgust, before he schooled his features back to some semblance of normalcy.

"It's nothing," the boy said, looking away, his body relaxing – only to tense in a different way as Amber squeezed his hand. "Really."

His words convinced exactly no one, though Amber knew him well enough not to push, and Phelan didn't really care, as his attention was elsewhere.

"About You-Know-Who then?" the earl's son asked intently, leaning forward.

"Fine. If you're _that_ interested, I suppose I can tell you what I know," the Auror trainee conceded, after yet another slug of hard liquor. "You have a right to know. And as muggleborn, you wouldn't have heard about any of this, I suppose," Tonks realized, shaking her head. "It's not something I think about much, since I'm not around people your age much." She looked down into the cup filled with amber liquid. "That, and none of you exactly act like muggleborn, since you seem more…confident than most."

"Maybe that's because I'm _not_ muggleborn?" Shinji snarked, though the Hogwarts alumna shook her head.

"No, that's not it. You're the least confident one here, which is odd," Tonks remarked, with Shinji grimacing at how easily he was seen through.

"It's probably because my brother and I are more gently born," Amber replied. "We're both of the Noel family, one of Britain's noble houses."

"...I didn't realize even muggles had traditions like that," Tonks grumbled. "I thought it was just my family."

"Oh? Are you of the nobility too?"

The Auror trainee looked away, as she didn't really want to deal with this topic. She said nothing for about half a minute, sipping from the heady brew in her glass, as if it would give her courage – or at least remove some of her reluctance.

"I am...part of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," the metamorphmagus said eventually, with her hair growing turning blonde and her skin pale, such that she looked almost like an older – female – version of Draco Malfoy. "Or at least, what's left of it, these days."

"The House of Black?" Amber echoed. "I thought Minister Fudge said that there were no noble houses left since Lord Black left for America...? Was that a lie?"

"It…not exactly," Tonks temporalized. "The House of Black exists in that there are still daughters of the House, but our wealth, our power – that is all gone."

"Oh?" Phelan leaned closer. "How did that happen? The war perhaps?"

He knew that war was a very expensive thing, after all, especially if it ran for any significant length of time.

"Something like that," the Auror trainee remarked with a sigh. "My...uncle, Lord Black, the Last Black – they call him now – fought against You-Know-Who, at Dumbledore's side, as did his best friends. But one of his comrades – one of his oldest friends, was a traitor to the cause and was secretly working with…the Dark Lord. His treachery led to the deaths of Lord Black's closest friends."

"Oh." Phelan didn't know what to say to something like that.

"It also led to the death of You-Know-Who," Tonks related tiredly. "Which Pettigrew brought up during his trial. Even with the Ministry's best efforts – even with Dumbledore's aid, the Dark Lord was winning, until he died facing the Potters." Her face was pale, and Shinji thought he noted signs of something dark just beneath the surface. "The night they died was the night that Wizarding Britain was spared the conqueror's wand. What did the death of one family matter next to something like that?"

"…isn't that the correct conclusion though?" Shinji asked, surprised by the bitterness in the Auror trainee's voice. "Objectively, putting one person in danger to let a hundred or a thousand, live, is the right thing to do."

Wasn't that what heroes – Aurors – did, after all? Using themselves as a shield, a thin red line, between the populace and the threats that lurked in the shadows?

Tonks eyed the Japanese boy for something like a minute, as if finding him rather strange.

"…that's what the Wizengamot thought," she said finally. "Especially since the Order of the Phoenix, who fought the Dark Lord, had already taken the law into its own hands by fighting You-Know-Who. And since Pettigrew was the Potters' Secret-Keeper, and their most trusted friend, the Wizengamot ruled that what was thought a betrayal must have been another reckless stratagem the Order had devised. One which worked, where nothing else had."

She smiled, but the expression was a grim one.

"Victory, you see, washes away any number of sins," she murmured. "And so, not only did Pettigrew not go to prison, he was awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class, for engineering the stratagem that brought down the Dark Lord. The Potters, who died defeating the Dark Lord, were also accorded that honor."

"…Lord Black couldn't accept that, could he?" Amber noted quietly.

"He couldn't, no," Tonks affirmed. "He said, quite publicly, that a Britain which honored traitors like Pettigrew was a Britain he wanted no part of. So he sold off the family house and holdings, emptied the accounts, and left for the New World." She shook her head. "The Black family more or less ceased to exist as a power after that, with the Malfoys buying everything they once owned. Which just means that Aunt Narcissa effectively controls what once belonged to Uncle Sirius now, just as she would have even if Uncle hadn't sold everything off."

"Ah. But why?"

"Because Mum had been disowned, and my uncle forgot he could do something about that in his hatred for Britain," Tonks noted, with Amber wincing sympathetically. "So as the only Black left in Britain, Aunt Narcissa became the acting head of the family."

"Ah."

"It hasn't been all bad, I suppose," the Auror trainee noted. "She let Mum back into the Black family after Dad died, and even passed the title of family head to her, since Mum has no competing interests, unlike Aunt Narcissa. Still… that's largely a formality, since we don't actually own anything of note these days."

"That sounds...complicated," Phelan grunted. It reminded him of some of those noble arrangements he didn't really care for.

"Does that mean you might be the heiress of House Black?" Amber asked, with the Auror trainee's lips pressing together at the girl's query.

"Who knows?" she replied, almost diffidently. "But I've gone my whole life just being Tonks, and I'm not about to ask people to call me Lady Black or some rot."

"Then Miss Tonks it will always be," the Earl's son said gallantly, bowing slightly.

The earl's daughter wasn't especially pleased with that answer, but she didn't press the issue, as she thought people should have a right to choose their fates, not have destiny thrust upon them.

Not that the world worked that way.

One could rarely choose the hand one was dealt, only how one played one's cards.

"I believe you were going to tell us about You-Know-Who?" she said instead, noting that the older woman had – on several occasions now – tried to distract them from asking more about the dark wizard. "If you don't mind, that is."

"I do, but seeing as all of you want to know, I'll tell you what I can," Tonks relented, glancing at the walls of the car, as if trying to gauge how quickly they were moving. "Odd. From the window, it looks like the world is flying by, but I don't feel the wind on my face."

"Miss Tonks…"

The woman bit her lip.

"Fine," she said flatly. "Was there something in particular you wanted to know?"

"Well, how about something easy: who was he?" Shinji asked, deciding to get the obvious out of the way. "Who was the Dark Lord that people speak of only as You-Know-Who, over a decade after he died?"

It seemed his request was not as simple as he'd imagined though, as the Auror trainee did not reply immediately.

"What I know is that he called himself Lord V-voldemort, and that those who fought on his side were mostly purebloods," the older woman answered as Shinji was beginning to grow impatient.

"That sounds almost french," Amber mused. "Flight of Death or something, maybe. Was he a foreigner, perhaps?"

But the Hogwarts alumna shook her head.

"I don't think so," the Auror trainee said, her face morphing into something like what Amber might look like in a few years' time. "A foreigner wouldn't have gained the loyalty of the purebloods so easily. He didn't speak like one either, but I didn't bother with foreign tongues or the like."

"Ah."

"Wherever he came from though, he was powerful though," Tonks admitted. "They say Dumbledore is the only one he ever feared." The woman shook her head. "But this is just wot I heard. He was before my time."

Her answer raised more questions than it laid to rest, however.

"...Dumbledore?" the Japanese boy echoed, looking rather confused. "But why would a Dark Lord fear a Headmaster?"

While it was true that the heads of some schools in Japan were strict disciplinarians, whose iron-fisted rule over their institutions struck fear into the hearts of their students, he didn't think a Dark Lord whose name struck fear into an entire country would have anything to fear from a mere teacher. After all, the boy found it unlikely, at best, that the head of a school would just happen to have incredible prowess in the martial and magical arts.

' _Well, unless we're talking_ _about the Director of Atlas or the head of the Clock Tower_ , _but those are two of the Association's Great Branches.'_

Hogwarts, on the other hand, was a school for children and teenagers – and certainly no place for a master of various arts to keep up one's skills.

' _Unless maybe the Headmaster used to be famous when he was young or something?'_

Shinji thought that was rather unlikely, as—

"Y-you mean, you don't know?!" Tonks all but squawked. "How can you—"

"You'll have to excuse Matou," Amber interjected. "He doesn't find Binns' lectures particularly compelling."

The Auror trainee looked as if she ha bitten into a particularly sour lemon at that response.

"...I'm not one to judge, I s'ppose," she grumbled. "Still, to think you don't know that Dumbledore ended the Global Wizarding War..."

' _The Global Wizarding War? The headmaster did?'_

Something like that strained the limits of credulity nearly beyond recognition.

' _It doesn't make any sense. If he'd done something like that, why wouldn't he be Minister of Magic or something? Besides, if this was something like a world war, I'm sure I would have heard about it before now.'_

Or perhaps he had – maybe the events had been mixed up with those of World War II or something, since he knew that the Third Reich had been quite curious about the possibility of enhancing their warfighting abilities by dabbling in the occult.

There had been Nazis in the Third Grail War – or so he'd heard once. Apparently, some Yggdmillennia fellow had attempted to steal its power for their own use, with his grandfather defeating the man and his minions handily.

"...ended the war, you say?" Shinji echoed, finding it difficult to picture someone as unsophisticated and eccentric as the headmaster in some position of responsibility that would let him do something like that. "Did he broker a peace treaty or something? Convince people to come to the negotiating table through a sternly worded letter?"

Neither of these would make him feared though, so…

"He fought a duel," Tonks corrected, perhaps a bit more peevishly than she meant to. "One of the longest and most brilliant duels in the history of the world, against the dark wizard Grindelwald, whose reign of terror had brought Wizarding Europe to its knees."

"…really?" Shinji asked, more than a bit skeptical.

"Yes, really," the Auror trainee insisted. "You don't believe me?"

"You're telling me that someone like the headmaster fought a duel against a criminal capable of bringing low entire countries," Shinji stated bluntly. "That he won. And that after winning he…became a schoolteacher?"

"He was already a Professor at Hogwarts before that," Tonks corrected mildly. "I think he taught transfiguration?"

"…that's even more unbelievable," the Japanese boy grunted. "I don't suppose anyone actually saw the duel in its entirety, did they?"

"Well, no…," Tonks admitted. "There were witnesses, but none of them saw the whole thing from beginning to end. Those two…were apparently on a whole other level compared to most wizards."

"Did anyone see how the duel ended?"

"A few," the young woman revealed. "They don't know the exact method by which Dumbledore did it, since they were casting silently, but he managed to disarm Grindelwald and strike him down. He left with the body of the dark wizard, presumably to dispose of it somewhere no one could find." Tonks shrugged. "Personally, I think he just thought even a criminal deserved a proper burial, instead of having his body desecrated, as many would have wished."

"…or maybe Dumbledore didn't kill Grindelwald," Shinji mused aloud. "Maybe he left the man alive because they were friends or something."

"W-why would you even think something like that?" the Auror trainee asked, her expression one of utter horror as she stared at the Japanese boy as if he was some kind of...alien.

Which in a legal sense, he supposed was, but...it wasn't like he had two heads or something. Well...he supposed that maybe he did if one counted his berserk state as another entity, but...

"Because no one else ever confirmed what happened?" Shinji answered. Wasn't it just common sense that one should never take someone's word as enough, especially where matters like life and death were concerned? "No one saw what he did with the body or confirmed Grindelwald's death. No one saw the entire duel from beginning to end." The boy shook his head. "How do you know the person who fought really was Dumbledore anyway, not someone wearing his skin or pretending to be him? Maybe a…metamorphmagus, someone like you? Or someone using a potion?"

"I…" Tonks was speechless before the boy's tirade, and rather disbelieving at how far he would try to go to reject what she told him – something that everyone in Britain knew to be true. It…she shook her head and sighed, letting out a particularly long exhalation. "Think what you will. It's of no concern to me, really," she half-growled.

"So…what did Voldemort want?" Phelan asked, almost lightly, trying to banish the awkward atmosphere that lingered in the wake of Matou's acerbic skepticism about a true hero.

"...what every dark wizard in history has ever wanted," the Auror trainee replied simply. "Power."

"But if he was strong enough that the only one he feared was a hero who ended a world war, then why would he need to seek more than that?" the earl's son questioned, trying to understand the motives of this Dark Lord, only to flinch as Tonks turned her gaze on him.

"Dark wizards _never_ have enough power. That's just how they are," she said flatly, words that greatly unnerved the boy. "Like dementors, they are always hungry. Never satisfied, no matter how much they gain, or how far they come." Then she smiled, an expression that was altogether false. "Now, I rather think it might be a good thing to ask about something else, don't you?"

"W-well, how about your days at Hogwarts?" Amber inquired with a cheer that rang just as hollow. "Surely you must have adventures you could share? Or perhaps you were a prefect."

"Heh. I was never a prefect," Tonks corrected. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" Phelan asked.

Tonks' lips curved up ever so slightly, though this time, it was genuine.

"Like the ability to behave myself."

Shinji found this quite odd, given that she had decided to go into law enforcement. If she couldn't be trusted to follow the law, or to enforce rules at Hogwarts, why had she been hired to enforce the Ministry's?

"Well, since you were obviously up to no good," Shinji inquired mildly. "Did you happen to discover anything interesting during your time as a student? Secret passages or things like that?"

"A few," Tonks admitted. "I might even tell you about them if you make it worth my while." She eyed the first years speculatively. "Not that knowing the ones inside the castle will do you much good if Filch finds you. He knows 'em all too, see?" Then she blinked, as if remembering something. "…no, that's right, Filch is dead, isn't he? Can't believe he of all people got an Order of Merlin…"

"Yes," Shinji answered, though he couldn't quite meet Tonks' eyes. "I...I couldn't save him," the boy said, his lips pressing together tightly. This was, strictly speaking, quite true.

"If your Defense Professor couldn't save him, then you shouldn't be blaming yourself," Tonks replied, her words a bit brusque. "Unless you think you're at the same level as Quirrell."

"I…no, but—"

"Well, since that's settled, who's the new caretaker?" the Auror trainee asked, her voice quite casual – too casual – by Shinji's estimation.

"...I don't know," the Japanese boy admitted. "I haven't been paying attention."

"I think that Hagrid fellow is filling in for now," Amber supplied helpfully. "The one who is supposed to start classes as a third-year student next year."

There had been something in the paper about how new evidence in the Chamber of Secrets had exonerated the half-giant from any involvement in the death of Myrtle Warren, meaning that he could continue his long-interrupted education at Hogwarts, starting as a 3rd year. Of course, the investigation had also implicated him in the trafficking of exotic animals such as acromantulae, a finding which had disqualified him from receiving any reparations from the Ministry, or from receiving the usual financial aid offered to most students, so to cover the cost of his tuition, he would continue to be working for the school.

"Ah, Hagrid, huh?" Tonks echoed. "Good fellow, that. Or so I hear."

"How can someone who breaks the law be a good person?" Phelan asked, though he notably did not look at Tonks while he asked this.

"Sometimes, people have their reasons. Sometimes people make mistakes. And sometimes, people actually don't know better," the Auror trainee replied. "Not that I'll admit to saying that, mind. I'm an officer of the law, after all."

"Or perhaps it just depends on the law?" Amber mused aloud. "Some are well and good. Some are well-meaning and ineffectual. Some are just better off ignored."

"I can't encourage people to ignore the law," Tonks said flatly. "Would cost me my job. But yes, sometimes people do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Sometimes, people do the wrong thing for the right reasons." She shook her head. "And sometimes, what you do isn't as important as the context in which you do it," Tonks noted. "It's like...people call Dumbledore a hero for killing Grindelwald, but if he'd killed the man before his rise to power, he'd have just been a murderer."

"So, a crime is only a crime-"

"When people agree it's a crime," the Auror trainee noted. "If enough people, especially those in power, agree something isn't a crime, then it isn't. That's how society works."

"And what if the people are wrong? What if say, the Dark Lord had won and taken over the Ministry, with the people's blessing?" Amber questioned. "Would this Voldemort then be in the right? Would it then be evil for Dumbledore to keep opposing him?"

"...huh. I hadn't thought about that," Tonks admitted, shaking her head. "Binns never asked this sort of thing, you know."

"Class would be more interesting if he did," the copper-haired girl noted. "Instead he just drones on and on. Not a very good way to make us care about the past. As Matou here can attest."

"Huh? What was that about Binns?" Shinji asked, not quite following the conversation on ethics and morality. He'd never bothered studying such things himself, as magi didn't really find such things useful…

"You see my point?" Amber was saying.

"...yes, I believe I do," the Auror trainee remarked with some amusement. "But unless Binns leaves of his own accord or Dumbledore fires him, that's how things will be, since no one will apply to replace him if there's no opening. Even if we all wanted Binns binned."

Phelan made a face, while a sound suspiciously like "Ugh" escaping Shinji's lips.

 _'Maybe I should look into necromancy a bit more,'_ the Japanese boy thought to himself. _'It might be a good way to get rid of Binns.'_

If he remembered correctly, there were rituals that would allow him to sacrifice human souls for power, and it wasn't as if he'd be hurting something that was actually alive.

In fact, he'd be doing Binns – and everyone else – a favor, right? Since it would help them advance their education, what evil he did would be justified in the name of the Greater Good.

"And what if he oh…moves on one day?" Shinji asked. "Goes to the other side."

"Eh, that doesn't happen to ghosts," Tonks replied. "Once they choose to become ghosts, they're forever bound to this plane of existence."

"Huh. And there's no magic that can change that?"

That…wasn't how ghosts worked, as far as Shinji knew. Unless these ghosts weren't souls in their entirety, just impressions of them.

"Not that I know of," the woman answered. "Spells to seal them into an item, if they're being a right nuisance, sure, but making them move on?" the Auror trainee shrugged. "Maybe the Unspeakables know. They do all sorts of strange things down in the Department of Mysteries."

"The Department of Mysteries?" Amber echoed, recalling something. "You didn't give us a tour of that place when we were at the Ministry."

"And I'm not going to talk about it. Like I said, I value my job. And my freedom."

"Your freedom, huh?"

"Talking about what they do there, or learning about it without authorization, could lead to being thrown into Azkaban," Tonks informed the copper-haired girl..

'Ah."

 _'Mysteries, huh?'_ Shinji mused. _'Perhaps that's where the truly interesting bits of witchcraft are researched. Everything else so far is so...tame.'_

Wave a wand, produce some physical effect – that was about all he'd seen.

Nothing that dealt with concepts. Nothing that affected the spirit…except for curses.

' _Well, I'm still a first year. Maybe that has something to do with why I'm not seeing more interesting things.'_

Even so, the fact remained that what he had access to wasn't enough.

He wanted – no, _needed_ – more.

"Enough boring talk," Phelan interjected. "Tell us more about your adventures."

"Well, there was the time that someone, who will remain anonymous, laced the castle's pumpkin juice supply with love potions," the young woman said matter-of-factly. "Everyone did quite a bit of snogging that night. Filch just about went spare."

"Love potion?" Amber echoed. "Isn't that a bit…"

"Oh, not the stuff that makes people feel things for other people. Just the stuff which erases all their inhibitions. Let's them act on all the desires and frustration they normally hide from the world." She smiled, ever so slightly. "Funny, how so many avowed enemies - especially Slytherins and Gryffindors - found their way into broom closets together, after a bit of dueling."

"What? Why?"

"Well, when you think about someone all the time, wondering where they are, what they're doing, how they'll feel when you finally best them, the lines between love and hate tend to blur. Especially when people grow obsessed or fixated. Wanting to impress a potential partner isn't that different from wanting acknowledgement from a rival as some people think," Tonks said with something much like a smirk. "Things like love and hate aren't opposites, really. If you didn't care about someone at all, you wouldn't hate them with all your heart, and dedicate every fibre of your being to proving yourself to them, or showing them up. You just wouldn't think of them at all."

For some reason, Shinji felt a chill go down his spine as he listened to her words about obsession and rivalry, but for the life of him, he couldn't quite think of why.

Before he could think of why, however, Phelan cut in, his words a welcome distraction…

"Say, about those secret passages…" the earl's son said, glancing at Tonks. "You said you wouldn't mind telling us about them?"

"I said I _might_ , if you made it worth my while," the Auror trainee amended. "And you haven't gotten to that point yet, Mister Noel."

"Then what do I need to do?"

"Why, Mister Noel, didn't anyone tell you that it's a man's job to figure that out?" Tonks teased, her expression coy, as her features shifted once more, letting her take on the appearance of a tall, willowy blonde with brilliant green eyes – almost like what Selina might look like in some years' time. "I'll let you know if I'm…satisfied."

"R-right."

For some reason, the earl's son turned quite red indeed.


	29. Clouded Feelings

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 28.** _Clouded Feelings_

As it turns out, Tonks has never heard of this Shakespeare fellow whose birthplace the group is going to visit, which makes some of the other tourists quite curious about her, since there aren't many other reasons one would visit Stratford-upon-Avon. Still, that alone doesn't shake the premonition of disaster that Shinji feels, with something dark looming just about the corner.

 _'Its like I'm being watched...'_

That...was probably just paranoia. Maybe because he hadn't slept enough. Or because of the odd topics they had talked about in the car.

It was tempting to say nothing, but…he thought he should probably at least ask for advice. Even if it would probably turn out to be nothing in the end.

Taking a deep breath, the boy steeled his courage…

"...I don't know if I'm just imagining things, but I think someone's been following us for a while," the boy mentioned to Amber. "Ever since we went to get tickets for the _Beowulf_ showing tonight. Or at least, I feel like I'm being watched."

He'd tried to look around a bit himself, but when he did, there wasn't anyone to be seen.

 _'Maybe I'm just bad with crowds?'_

There were a great many people here, after all - more than he had expected from a village like this, though in retrospect, perhaps he should have expected more people to be interested in a place with such _history._

 _'...I used to find history interesting before I came to Hogwarts, too. It's just, with Binns as a teacher...'_ Nothing was interesting. Not goblin rebellions. Not giant wars. Not the nonsense about the Statute of Secrecy. Everything was just delivered in a bone-dry recitation that put him to sleep without fail, regardless of how often Natsumi chided him. _'If only I could absorb all his knowledge without having to sit through his lectures...'_

He thought there might be a ritual for that, but it was likely a bit on the complex side. And then there was the matter of getting the ghost into a position to be drained of all its knowledge...

"Following us?" Phelan asked curiously, interrupting his train of thought. "How exciting!"

Exciting wasn't the word Shinji would have used, but he supposed he had to make allowances for people of...odd beliefs and tastes.

"Exciting?" Shinji echoed. "How is being followed exciting?"

"You never know," the earl's son joked. "What if you have a secret admirer, with those dark, exotic looks of yours?"

"...if you're about to say my hair looks like seaweed, I am going to hit you."

"What? Why would I say that?" Phelan asked, taken aback by the Japanese boy's rather…direct words. "I mean, what does seaweed even look like?"

Shinji sighed and shook his head as Amber giggled, amused at the verbal byplay between the two.

"That aside, why would someone be following you anyway?" Tonks asked aloud.

Only, when the reply came, it was from a most unexpected source.

"It's because he's surrounded by wrackspurts," a voice said dreamily from behind them, with Shinji turning with a start to see a young blonde girl with wide, eternally surprised eyes the color of stormclouds, wearing plums for earrings and a necklace of corks.

"Wrack..spurts?" Shinji echoed. Were those...some kind of magical creature?

The girl nodded, a hum escaping her pale lips.

"They're invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," she confirmed, her words almost musical to his ears.

"Ah." That...would explain why he had been having trouble concentrating in the last few days. Though...did they really make someone's thoughts grow fuzzy or were they just attracted to people whose thoughts were already fuzzy? "And how do I...get rid of them?"

"Thinking positive thoughts" was the not entirely satisfactory reply.

 _'A feedback loop then? They come to people who are feeling distracted and irritable, and worsen their mood?'_

It sounded plausible at least.

"I see. I'm Matou Shinji, by the way," he said, with a bow and a flourish, remembering his manners.

"You're the one of the two who bought lifetime subscriptions to the Quibbler as gifts," the young blonde noted idly. "Luna Lovegood, by the by."

"Ah. Charmed," Shinji replied, smiling slightly.

"I am Amber Noel, eldest daughter of the sixth Earl of Gainsborough," the copper-haired girl by the Japanese boy's side spoke up. "And this is—" she added, gesturing at her wayward brother.

"I am Phelan," the earl's son interrupted. "And I am quite capable of introducing myself, sister."

"I wouldn't know," Amber countered. "You have seemed eager to prove otherwise many a time."

"You bought a lifetime subscription as well," the blonde girl noted, her stormy grey gaze seeming to look right through the earl's son. "For a Miss Granger."

"Um, yes," Phelan frowned. "T-that's right...but how did you know that?" he asked, looking at the new girl owlishly.

"Oh, my father is the editor for the _Quibbler_. He was very excited. No one has ever bought a lifetime subscription before."

"Ah, no one, you say? Then, you...you're most welcome," Phelan replied, his voice growing soft as he did. "Are you alone today, mi'lady? Do you come here often?"

Amber just shook her head at Phelan's use of that particular line, even if she knew he didn't mean anything bad by it.

"Oh, I'm visiting for the day with dad," came the dreamy response. "We're on our way to the butterfly farm."

"And…where is he?" Shinji asked, not seeing a paternal figure anywhere in sight.

"The loo."

'… _well, when you have to go, you have to go, I suppose…'_

"...I see," Amber observed, blinking. "Do you...go to Hogwarts by any chance? I don't think I recognize you…"

She didn't look older than their age, after all.

"I start next year," was Luna Lovegood's answer. "Do you?"

"Yes. We're first years," Amber replied.

"Well, I'm not," Tonks interjected, speaking up for the first time in a while, and honestly a bit unnerved by how the young girl had just walked up to them. "Miss Lovegood, it's dangerous to follow strangers around, you know. Who knows who they might be?"

"I do, since you all just told me," Luna replied distantly, a response that rather annoyed the Auror trainee.

"I didn't," Tonks sniffed.

"You didn't need to," the girl murmured, her grey eyes glancing at the young Hogwarts alumna. "Everyone knows who you are, Miss Dora," the young Lovegood girl answered. "Or was it Miss Nymphadora?"

"...Tonks. It's just Tonks," the Auror trainee growled.

The young blonde nodded.

"As you say, Miss Just Tonks."

"…Miss Tonks, if you have to," the metamorphmagus replied tersely. "None of this Dora or Just business, and certainly _not_ Nymphadora."

But the girl just tilted her head.

"Why would you not want to be called the gift of the muses?"

"Because boys have a dirty mind," Tonks mumbled, with Shinji and Phelan both instinctively taking a step back.

"Oh," Luna commented, her eyes wide. "But how can a mind be dirty?"

"...you'll understand when you're older, Miss _Lovegood_ ," the Auror trainee replied, giving the standard reply to troublesome youths who asked too many questions. The Hogwarts alumna clearly wanted to say something else, but decided to bite her tongue.

A fortunate thing too, as a most eccentric-looking man came out of a building to join them. He was slightly cross-eyed, with shoulder-length white hair the texture of candyfloss, and was dressed in a suit of an eye-watering shade of egg-yolk yellow.

"Ah, Luna, there you are," the new arrival commented. "I see you found friends."

"Yes. Two of them bought lifetime subscriptions to the Quibbler, too," the girl added, with the man looking astonished as he literally did a doubletake.

"What? Oh, oh I see!" he said animatedly. "Then you two are Phelan Noel and Mako…err…Makar Shinra. And I do see Miss Black as well?"

"...it's Matou Shinji, actually," the Japanese boy corrected, though given that that they'd never met, he was satisfied that this newcomer at least had gotten the first syllables of his first and last name right.

"And as I said before, the name is Tonks," the Auror trainee said with some impatience.

"Ah, details, details." The man glossed over their rebukes, as if they didn't bother him at all. Perhaps that was something one needed to be an effective member of the press? "Still, this is marvelous. Just marvelous," the man said rubbing his hands together. "It's been so long since my daughter introduced me to her friends."

"Err…"

"You are her friends, yes?" the editor of the _Quibbler_ asked. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Xenophilius Lovegood, and I must treat you all to lunch!"

He glanced around.

"...if you know a good place, that is."

The twins – and Shinji – looked at one another. The man before them was so earnest that it hurt, and he seemed so hopeful that they were all Luna's friends that it would be very awkward to beg off.

A wordless moment passed, before Phelan stepped forward, offering the man and his lovely daughter a dashing smile.

"Well, if you're offering, I see no reason not to accept," Phelan spoke up. "It's not every day that I get to accompany such a charming young lady and her father for a meal, after all." Then he turned to his sister. "Sister, I don't suppose you would know a place? You were the one who suggested coming out here today, after all."

"Perhaps one or two," Amber admitted, as the trip hadn't been completely spontaneous. She had found that a bit of research and other preparation often helped to ensure success in her endeavours, no matter how seemingly spontaneous they were. "Of those, for a group like this, I think _Moons_ would be best."

"Moons?" Luna echoed, her eyes lighting up a hint at the name. "I didn't see such a sign, though it's a lovely name."

"Well, I can see why you'd think so," the copper-haired girl quipped, shaking her head. "It's actually called Edward Moon, after a famous traveling chef who was famous among governors and ambassadors of the Empire."

"The...Empire?" Tonks asked, looking somewhat puzzled. "What Empire?"

"The British Empire, of course, upon which the sun never sets," Amber replied, raising a slim eyebrow as she noted that Tonks didn't seem to recognize her terms. What _did_ witches and wizards learn in history, she wondered, that they didn't even recognize the name of what was once the greatest empire in the world? "Admittedly, the saying was first coined for the Spanish Empire, but our Empire surpassed theirs several hundred years ago." She harrumphed mildly. "In any case, Edward Moon was well known for creating a culinary 'England' wherever he was posted, with his banquets becoming legend in certain circles."

"...I thought Britain was so bent on conquering most of the world because it wanted better food?" Shinji remarked, offering his – admittedly limited – view on the matter. "So why are we going to a place which serves English food?"

"Because what we accept as part of English fare now is a bit broader than it once was, thanks to those conquests and interactions," Amber commented, shaking her head. "We eat spaghetti carbonara or curry as often as a traditional roast, we have tea and sandwiches where hundreds of years ago the concept of a sandwich did not exist, and more! We borrow from other traditions to enrich ours. Edward Moon was famed for doing much the same, unlike the chefs of Hogwarts, whose fare is too traditional for my tastes."

"I don't think pumpkin juice is traditional, sister," Phelan pointed out.

"And so it isn't, as pumpkins are hardly traditional in our cuisine, having come from the Americas!" the earl's daughter exclaimed. "Which makes it all the more curious why it is served at school."

Perhaps pumpkins had been adopted as a part of wizarding cuisine because they were hardy crops which could grow on every continent except Antarctica?

 _'Not that I've ever heard of a practitioner of witchcraft who farms...'_ Shinji thought to himself. _'Speaking of which, where do they get their food?'_ Walking around Hogwarts, he'd seen a small vegetable patch and a few chickens, but he didn't imagine that paltry amount to be sufficient for the entire student body, unless... _'Are they just duplicating everything with Gemino?'_

Come to think of it, this would explain the rather repetitious menu, as well as the nigh endless quantities of food that were served at each meal.

' _Maybe even the pumpkin juice, if few others wanted pumpkins except for practitioners of witchcraft, perhaps they just made a virtue of necessity, liking it because it was what they had.'_

"Pumpkins are from America? I...did not know that," Tonks replied, taken aback by the notion that one of her favorite drinks as a student had a...foreign origin.

"I hate to admit it, but my sister is usually right about these things," Phelan admitted, turning to the girl in question. "So...this _Moons_ is good then, sister of mine?"

"So our brother says, at least, and whatever else I think about him, I trust his taste in fine restaurants," Amber noted. "As Viscount Campden, he's dined at enough of them, after all."

"...well, that's fair," the earl's son allowed. "Henry does have good taste, even if he's a few years older than us. So, _Moons_ then?"

There were no objections, so to Edward Moon they went, with an odd look suddenly coming over Xenophilius' face, as if he'd forgotten something.

* * *

...that _something_ turned out to be enough muggle money to pay for such a large group, once they were seated and looking at the menu, as the editor of the Quibbler remembered belatedly that he'd only expected to be spending the day with his daughter and had budgeted accordingly.

"That's fine," Amber said quietly, looking at the eccentric older man compassionately. "I made sure to bring more than enough, just in case of any surprises."

"You're a thoughtful one, hm?" Xenophilius noted, shaking his head. "But I offered to treat, so it would be most inconsiderate of me to make one of my guests treat me instead..." Beyond being inconsiderate, it would make him something of a failure as a man in society. "Could I offer you all subscriptions to the Quibbler for your trouble?"

"There's no need to go that far," Amber replied with a slight smile, thinking the man's earnestness, while awkward, was at least well-meaning. It was clear he cared deeply about his daughter, after all, and there were plenty of men who couldn't claim even that much. "Such mistakes can happen to anyone."

Even so, to let a young girl pay for everyone's meals...

A small pouch landed on the table in front of Amber with a heavy clank, with Xenophilius silently nodding for the girl to take it and open it.

Inside...was a considerable number of galleons, gleaming gold.

"This is..."

"About fifty galleons," the man explained. "I think that should be enough."

"It's too much!" Over three times what this meal would cost, given the special lunch price of £13.50 for all involved. "I couldn't possibly..." Shaking her head, Amber counted out eleven of the golden coins for herself and pocketed them, while passing the rest back to the rather surprised man.

"...you're an honest sort, aren't you?" Xenophilius observed, his expression thoughtful. "Though not sparing of an old man's feelings, I'll note."

"Feelings are one thing, and often at odds with honor," Amber replied calmly.

The editor of the Quibbler was silent for a moment, before nodding.

"My late wife would have agreed with that," the man acknowledged with a sigh. "Shall we all order then?"

And so they did, with Shinji ordering a first course of smoked salmon, and a second of asparagus, pea and mushroom tagliatelle, figuring that a bit of fish and pasta wouldn't be too bad. He was pleasantly surprised when the salmon arrived, fragrant with the scent of oak, covered with pickled capers and dill dressed rocket (arugula) leaves, and garnished with lemon, with fluffy brown bread on the side. The tagliatelle, which arrived afterwards, was just as delicious, with the porous, rough texture of the pasta making an excellent combination with the smoothness of basil cream sauce it was mixed with. The asparagus, peas, and wild mushrooms - all local ingredients - were excellent as well, with the boy almost moaning as he savored the rich, earthy flavors of the dish.

Phelan, being a simpler sort of fellow who preferred country food as opposed to anything too exotic, ordered oven-baked field mushrooms and something called sirloin of bacon. Yet even he was surprised by the taste and presentation of his dishes. The earthy flavor of the roasted field mushrooms, blended excellently with the fragrant bacon and parmesan glaze that had been applied to them. The sirloin of bacon - a cut of beef wrapped in bacon for flavor, was tender and juicy, with the brandy and green peppercorn sauce drizzled over it complementing it perfectly, and going quite well with the creamy mashed potato and seasonal vegetables it was served alongside.

Amber, being of somewhat more refined tastes, ordered a cauliflower cheese tart, consisting pieces of cauliflower lightly boiled and covered with a cheddar cheese and egg sauce flavoured with English mustard and nutmeg, mixed with lightly sautéed onions and bacon bits, and baked until golden in a light shortcrust pastry. The resultant tart, creamy and rich with flavour, with a warm, flaky crust, was accompanied by a crisply dressed salad, alongside minted new potatoes, the textures and tastes of which offset it perfectly. And in lieu of another primary course, she'd ordered a dessert, a deliciously decadent blackcurrant and vanilla creme brulee that needed no words.

Tonks, curious about this menu filled with things she'd never seen before, ordered something called Thai-spiced fishcakes, which required an explanation of both what Thailand was, as well as what fishcakes were - with the latter part of the discussion prompting a bit of debate, as Japanese fishcakes were not at all like British fishcakes.

Shinji, for one, took exception to Amber's description of the fishcake as being like a croquette, while Amber was startled to find that kamaboko came in cylinders and was what others would call imitation crab (or when sliced up and put into ramen, naruto, after the whirlpool like design that resulted from the rolling). Phelan had always thought of a fishcake as consisting of leftover fish ground up and mixed with mashed potatoes, before being baked or fried. And well, none of them were aware of fishcakes were prepared in Thai cuisine, where fish was mashed up and mixed with yardlong beans, fresh coriander, fish sauce, kaffir lime leaves, and red curry paste, before being deep fried and served with a sweet chilli dipping sauce.

As it turned out, what Tonks received was some mix of British and Thai traditions, with a mixture of minced salmon and cod with potato flour, lime, curry and coriander dipped in breadcrumbs and deep fried, with these cakes served alongside a seasonal dressed salad, a sweet chilli dipping sauce, and chips - or as American might call them - fries.

"So, it's just a fancy version of fish and chips then?" Phelan exclaimed, on seeing it. "Huh."

"A simple way of putting it, but not completely incorrect," Amber allowed.

"You're also so pedantic about these things sister," the earl's son groaned. "Though if you know so much, why haven't we seen fish and chips at Hogwarts?"

"...because fish and chips as a dish first appeared in the 1860s, and the Statute was signed almost two hundred years before that?" Amber asked dryly.

"...oh. I suppose that explains it," the boy admitted, blinking. "Come to think of it, we don't really have much fish at Hogwarts, even if there's a lake there. Though we do manage just about every other sort of meat."

' _Huh. He's right – but where do they get the beef, pork, or lamb?'_ Shinji wondered to himself. They didn't have _those_ at Hogwarts after all.

Thankfully, Tonks' dessert, a pie made from a combination of caramel and bananas on a base of crumbled biscuits and butter, finished with freshly whipped cream and vanilla ice cream, inspired rather less in the way of debate.

Xenophilius' choices were also rather modest, with his choice of two salads seeming rather at odds with his flamboyant appearance.

The first of these was a simple affair, with leafy greens mixed with grilled Welsh goat's cheese, marinated beetroot, and herb croutons, topped with a balsamic drizzle, while the second was something called a chicken Caesar salad, featuring of strips of succulent chicken breast chargrilled to perfection, served over cos lettuce leaves with herb croutons and mixed with a classic Caesar dressing,served alongside a helping of golden gourmet chips.

"This is plenty unusual," the man said, when asked about his rather tame choice in foodstuffs. "I've never seen such salads before at the…more traditional places I often eat at. Cheeses, and sauces, and these…crunchy bread things. It's all rather exotic, wouldn't you say?"

Perhaps it shouldn't have been such a surprise, but it was, at least to youths who did not know of the history of Caesar salad.

Contrary to what some rumors said, it was not a dish that the Caesars of Rome would have eaten, as it had only been invented in 1924 by Caesar Cardini, an Italian immigrant who operated restaurants in Mexico and the United States during the Prohibition Era. This more recent Caesar had come up with it as a "special" when a Fourth of July rush had depleted the kitchen's supplies, with this act of culinary improvisation taking America by storm, with high class steakhouses rushing to adopt it as a menu item, and Caesar dressings becoming quite popular on market shelves.

There was less of an excuse for the other, but then, leafy greens were not often consumed at Hogwarts, and cheese (whether cow or goat) was hardly to be found on the menu at all.

Thus, for Xenophilius, what seemed a tame order where muggles and those accustomed to their fare might be concerned, was actually an exotic culinary adventure, full of tastes and textures he'd never experienced in his life.

As such, the man ate with gusto and enthusiasm.

His daughter didn't seem quite as inclined towards his variety of culinary adventurism, choosing instead the more traditional cauliflower cheese tart, much like Amber. Her choice for desert, a caramelized lemon tart, was also not quite as exotic for wizarding tastes, though it was still delicious, with the shortbread pastry crust and baked lemon custard filling proving the perfect blend of crunchy, sweet, and tangy to offset the heavy creaminess of the cauliflower cheese.

"Mother made something like this once," she commented, with Xenophilius freezing, seeming stricken for a moment, before his expression returned to something more enthusiastic.

"So, she did," the man said softly. "Aren't you glad to enjoy something like it with friends? She'd be happy to know you made some, you know."

"Mm."

"I hope you'll treat my Luna right when she goes to Hogwarts? Look out for her?" Xenophilius implored, looking at Amber and Phelan, who were obviously the leaders of this little excursion.

"I'll be alright, Dad. Really."

"Of course, we will," Phelan declared. "That's what Gryffindors—"

"—and Hufflepuffs—"

"—do, after all."

"And you really shouldn't forget Selina, who is in Slytherin, either," Amber spoke up, undercutting her brother's bold declaration. "Or Sokaris in Ravenclaw."

"Selina…Selina Moore?" Luna questioned, seeming to recognize the name. "The one that you bought a lifetime subscription for?"

"Yeah…she's an…adventurer," Phelan said, more gently than most would credit him being capable of. "Someone curious about the world and all its hidden truths. Speaking of which, Matou, you remember the question Lady Selina asked us at the gathering?"

Shinji was silent for a moment as he thought back to the event organized by Quirrell.

"You mean about the attributes? Strength, Charisma, and all that?"

"Yes. What you value most and what you value least. I think they'd be good questions to ask of those with us at the table, don't you?" Phelan exclaimed, with the Japanese boy feeling the premonition of an oncoming headache.

"She had some other questions too," Amber noted mildly. "Something about whether one liked to take taking risks for the possibility of better rewards, or whether one preferred caution and a guaranteed, if smaller, reward."

"Is this some kind of divination?" Tonks asked, slightly intrigued.

Shinji and Amber looked at one another, exchanging volumes with a glance.

"Well, she seemed to be able to determine I could sing, among other things – I merely said I prioritized Charisma and Dexterity, and she called me a bard!" Amber note, with Tonks seeming rather surprised.

"She called me a warlock, though I don't know why," Shinji commented wryly, though privately he wondered if she had special eyes that could see people's potential or something, like those of the owner of the bookstore in _Mahoutokoro_ , or somehow could detect his affinity for curses and darker powers.

"A warlock…" Tonks repeated, glancing at the Japanese boy with some skepticism.

Her confusion was only natural, as Matou Shinji was but a first year at Hogwarts, and the title of Warlock was only granted in antiquity to someone learned in duelling and martial magics – though in its modern usage, it was also bestowed upon someone who had performed some great feat of bravery.

"Was this before or after the Chamber of Secrets incident...?" the Auror trainee asked sharply. If it was after, then that meant little. If it was before…

"Uh, before. Why?"

Then perhaps the one who had done the divination was a true Seer, the like of which was quite rare in the modern world.

"Just a bit of curiosity," Tonks deflected. "What were the questions she asked, out of curiosity?"

"Of strength, intelligence, dexterity, wisdom, constitution, and charisma, which two do you value the most, and which do you value least?" Amber replied, recalling the question as best as she could.

"Interesting attributes," the Auror trainee mused aloud, giving some thought as to how to answer. "I suppose I like dexterity and intelligence most. You don't have to be strong to get what you want, as long as you are quick and resourceful." She glanced over at the young blonde looking at her intently. "And you, Miss Lovegood?"

"Wisdom and Constitution," Luna murmured, a trace of melancholy flickering over her otherwise serene expression. "I don't think charisma in and of itself means much. Or intelligence without wisdom."

"Well said," Xenophilius said approvingly. "That's why my picks would be wisdom and intelligence. I could do without strength, as long as I can think. And the rest of you?"

"Strength and Charisma," Phelan replied confidently. "Everything else is negotiable, but without the ability to persuade people to do what you want, and the strength to accomplish your goals, it's all meaningless." He chuckled. "That's why I don't think highly of intelligence on its own."

"And I favor Wisdom and Charisma," Shinji concluded, shooting Phelan a bit of a smirk. "After all, what use is strength without the wisdom to know when not to use it?"

"Hey! I resemble that remark!"

"I know."


	30. Portents

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 29.** _Portents_

"This is well and good, but if what you are asking is part of a divination technique, then how does it work, exactly?" Xenophilius questioned archly, turning his attention to the copper-haired girl. "That is, if you know."

Amber's only response was to shrug.

"Don't ask me - I'm not the one who came up with it," she replied diffidently. "Though from what you have said I can, ah... _divine_ that you were a Ravenclaw."

"...did you divine that, truly?" the man asked, blinking rapidly, before peering at her owlishly. "Or did you just guess?"

"Well, that just now was a guess, because you valued wisdom and intelligence, where the motto of Ravenclaw is 'wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,'" Amber explained, with Xenophilius nodding.

"And yet your comrade was able to read more..." the editor of the Quibbler noted contemplatively. "I wonder…where might she have learned such a technique?"

"She mentioned something about her brother and his comrades being adventurers in Faerûn," the copper-haired girl related. "Perhaps she learned from one of them?"

"Perhaps," the man said pensively. "I know nothing of this Faerûn, myself." Which, though he had visited many lands in search of the elusive Crumple-horned Snorkack, didn't really mean much, as the world was a very vast place indeed. "Has she said much about it? "

"Not too much. All I know is that it is a most dangerous place," Amber replied solemnly, with no trace of levity on her features. "Full of beasts thought lost, and things of old, where only the brave or foolish truly thrive. A place of hidden caverns and artifacts, of monsters far beyond the ken of mortal men, of great feats of heroism and of terrible evil."

"Such a thing..." Tonks noted, half-entranced and half-repulsed by the description the earl's daughter provided. "It sounds…" She sighed. "Why..." She paused, shaking her head. "Why would anyone willingly spend time in such a place?"

She'd heard others – usually Unspeakables – whisper about such places when they thought no one else could hear – places where things of old lingered, where old curses and powers held sway, against which even an Auror – one of the country's elites – stood little chance.

For herself, she couldn't imagine why someone would become an adventurer if it took them into places like _that?_ Maybe they liked the sensation of living on the edge, of fighting for their lives? Perhaps they were the sort that simply couldn't live under the restrictions and shackles of human society and so left it for a place where only might and magic mattered?

' _A treacherous land of dungeons and dragons, no doubt. Some forgotten realm no reasonable person has ever heard of…'_

"Because he and his comrades tired of their ordinary lives, and so sought the excitement of adventure," Amber replied evenly. The copper-haired girl smiled faintly. "Choosing to write their own stories, to see where the limits of their abilities were, away from the rules of this land."

"...heh," the Auror trainee muttered. "So, it _was_ like that, huh?"

Being perfectly honest, it wasn't as if she didn't know people like that herself. After all, those who became hit wizards or Aurors usually weren't drawn to the position because of the respectable salary or the respect it gave one in wizarding society, but because of the danger, and the chance to test one's skills.

Perhaps the best example was Mad-Eye Moody, her mentor as an Auror, a powerful, brutal man who seemed more at home on a battlefield than in the office or in any social setting, who found it easier to communicate with others through spells than mere words.

"So, Selina tells me," the copper-haired girl noted, with the table going silent from the heaviness of the topic. "I don't think such a life suits me, personally, but it might suit my brother."

"…well, I can't really deny that," the boy grumbled. "It would be good for people to know about my adventures too though, much like those of Gilderoy Lockhart. After all, the deeds of knights and heroes should be remembered, not forgotten."

"Spoken like a Gryffindor, truly," Tonks quipped.

"I wonder, then," Luna Lovegood cut in, after a time, her dream-like voice dispersing some of the gloom that hung over the group. "Which house I would be most suited for?"

"Based on what, exactly?" Shinji questioned. He'd only known for perhaps an hour or two, which seemed too short an acquaintance to make a judgment like that. Though…the Sorting Hat did choose people's houses within minutes (at most) of touching their heads.

"The divination, perhaps?" the blonde responded, with the Japanese boy nodding. He supposed that made sense.

"Well, in that case…" Shinji mused, closing his eyes momentarily. "Hufflepuff." His declaration drew the attention of the table, as they had expected something else. "Since you don't think much of Charisma, I don't think you'd likely become a Slytherin. Nor do you value intelligence in and of itself, so that counts out Ravenclaw. And while wisdom can be found anywhere, you also value constitution – or endurance – which makes you particularly well suited to hard work."

"I must disagree," Phelan interrupted. "You cannot decide someone's house based on a question like that, can you? After all, a lovely young lady willing to approach complete strangers because she found one of them curious, without a sliver of fear, just _has_ to be a Gryffindor. Such a thing takes courage, more than hard work, would you not agree?"

"But what is courage without fear?" the boy from the east questioned. "If someone is simply fearless, that doesn't make them brave. Courage is having the strength to face fear, not its absence."

"You're both wrong," Amber declared, shaking her head. "Or at least, being particular biased towards your own House. Miss Lovegood approaching you out of curiosity, Matou, speaks of a desire for knowledge that transcends fear," Amber pointed out. "Which is more suitable for something like Ravenclaw, no?" She glanced at Shinji then, who was making a face as if he found that comparison particularly foul. "Granted, that doesn't describe _one_ of the Ravenclaws we know at all, but I think it likely describes Sialim Sokaris well enough. She doesn't _ever_ seem to be afraid, I've noticed."

Shinji felt a shiver go down his spine as he recalled the day that the purple-haired girl had stared down his monstrous form, without any trace of fear whatsoever.

"…well, true. I suppose not every Ravenclaw is like…" his lips twisted as he thought of the name of the reckless, arrogant girl he wanted nothing to do with – the one who was always trying to get him in trouble, and who wasn't obsessed with him in _that_ way, no matter what people tried to imply. "Like… _her."_

"I think...you cannot divine which I will end up in, can you?" Luna's voice cut in, with the first-years growing silent.

'… _that's right, we were originally talking about her future house. Not…our impressions of people.'_

Shinji shook his head with a sad smile.

"I can't," he admitted. "As Amber said, I'm not the one who came up with this technique. Not that I think I'd be able to divine much of anything if even if I had."

"Oh?"

The boy sighed.

"I'm...not good when it comes to thinking of things that might be," he said, looking down at his glass of water. "I'm better at dealing with the things in front of me. Things I can hold. Things I can touch. Things I can _change_."

"Heh. A Hufflepuff through and through," Tonks noted. "I suppose that means you have no idea what you want to be when you graduate?"

Shinji looked at the Auror trainee strangely.

"...I'm a first year. It's a little early to be worrying about something like that, isn't it?"

"Maybe," the Hogwarts alumna answered. "Still, I knew I wanted to be an Auror since the day I first came to Hogwarts. Don't you have a dream of what you might want to be?"

The boy scoffed.

"Oh, I have many dreams," Shinji admitted readily. The issue was that some of them, like gaining enough in the way of power and renown that the world itself would be forced to acknowledge him, mastering the dark arts of his family, or finding a way to stay by Miyuki-senpai's side, no matter what it cost him, weren't what one might consider wise to speak about in present company. And so, to deflect, he smiled. "Only I mostly have them in history class."

"Heh," Tonks snorted, one corner of her lips twitching upwards. "I'll grant that Binns' teaching makes for a wonderful lullaby, but you should really pay attention if you can."

"Natsumi lends me her notes anyway, so I don't see the need to," the boy replied with a shrug. "I've tried staying awake while paying attention. It...it doesn't work," he said flatly.

Maybe if he had some tea to drink during class, but Binns didn't exactly allow students to eat or drink during his lectures – not that Shinji thought he'd ever notice if people did.

"Heh. Well, make sure you give your long-suffering friend a nice present for Christmas then," the Auror trainee remarked. "And do nice things for her every once in a while. She's showing far more responsibility than I did, in my student years. And more kindness than you probably deserve."

"…I know." The boy's response was heavy. "Believe me."

Her expression slipped, and for a moment, it seemed like she was somewhere far away.

"Good. True friends are hard to find," she added, her voice almost...distant. "Don't let them slip through your fingers."

"Miss…Tonks?"

But the Auror trainee just shook her head, the odd expression on her face fading as she did.

"So, what about the rest of you?" she asked with perhaps false cheer. "Any dreams you want to tell old Tonks about?" She glanced over at Amber. "Or ambitions, if you prefer that word?"

"Well—"

"Ambitions, huh?" Phelan interrupted, a roguish smile on his face as he took a deep breath. "Well, since I was small, I dreamed of being a knight. And like every young knight, I longed for a few things. To become more than I was. To surpass my limits." He took a deep breath, and almost sang the next few lines, his voice taking on a lyrical quality. "To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go." His voice warbled and he took a breath. "To right the unrightable wrong, to love, true and fierce for all time, to try when my arms are too weary, to reach...the unreachable star."

As he finished his recitation, Phelan belatedly noticed that he had actually stood up, with one hand over his chest, and the other reaching out towards the sky in a fairly dramatic pose.

Luna clapped.

Xenophilius nodded.

Shinji tilted his head, as if confused.

Amber, recognizing that her brother had just ripped off "The Impossible Dream" from _The Man of La Mancha_ , yet had the audacity to substitute "true and fierce for all time" for "pure and chaste from afar", suppressed a silent groan. While it was true that she thought Phelan had the temperament of a modern Don Quixote, she did acknowledge that he rather liked girls more than most knights of stories. Not that the knights of Camelot had been at all chaste, really, but then didn't ideals exist so people could fall short of them? At least, that was how things seemed sometimes.

As for Tonks…

"...I suppose that too sounds like something a Gryffindor would say," Tonks demurred, after the ability of speech returned to her. She hadn't been expecting the boy to break into song, however nice his young voice might be... "And the rest of you?"

"I can't say my aims are quite as…lofty as my brother's," Amber replied. "I leave talk of slaying evils and righting impossible wrongs to him, since he's better suited for it. For me…" She shook her head, glancing at Shinji. "I want to live as best I can, and enjoy what happiness I can with people who…" She paused. "…who understand me." The girl chuckled. "I wouldn't mind doing some great thing, but it's not my dream, you know?"

"Well, it has to be _someone's_ ," Phelan insisted, rubbing his head sheepishly. "I mean, Selina wants to write stories of this world – so I may as well make sure she has things to write about." Perhaps his face colored slightly at that declaration. If so, he wasn't about to admit to it.

"Heh..." Tonks noted, smirking at the revelation the earl's son had let slip. "So, what you're saying is that you want to make her dreams come true, this Selina of yours?"

Phelan froze.

"I…uh…S…s-she's n-not my Selina or something. She's her own person!" the young noble denied hotly. "And I just said I wanted to make sure she has things to write about. That's all. We're just – just helping each other out. Don't get the wrong idea, Miss Tonks."

The Auror trainee only laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure I'm not."

* * *

 _Shinji's gift from Selina:_ A copy of **Lords of Swinverrucas** (0.1st Edition)

 _Lords of Swinverrucas_ is a strategy board game for 2-5 players, in which players take on the role of one of the masked Lords of the fortress city Swinverrucas, who rose to power after the fall of Archmagus Wulfric Bombyll Percival, and contend with each other for control of its treasures and resources.

Each Lord acts through agents, who are tasked with procuring resources and assets in the city. These assets, represented by orange, black, purple, and white cubes, are generally individuals trained in Martial, Intrigue, Arcane, and Technical skills, and are necessary to complete various quests about the fortress city. Such quests typically favored one of five approaches: Warfare, Skullduggery, Arcana, Engineering, and Commerce, with the last having a focus on the in-game currency. Completion of quests grants Influence, which, at the end of the game is one of the three primary currencies (along with gold and assets under one's control) used to assess a faction's overall power – thus determining the winner.

The titular Lords of Swinverrucas are based, of course, on those from the gathering of minds, with each Lord card granting player points at the end of the game for completing certain types of quests, controlling sections of the fortress city, or fulfilling other conditions. At the beginning of the game, each player draws one – and keeps it hidden from other players until the end.

 _These Lords include, but are not limited to…_

Matou Shinji – **Warlock** – Born into a line of sorcerers, this one was blessed with great intelligence, but alas, no natural aptitude for the gifts of his bloodline. Cast aside as the heir of his family, in favor of his more gifted sister, he stewed in frustration, crying to whatever might hear him for power enough to overturn everything. And from the shadows, something answered, breathing power into him, reshaping his flesh and soul at the price of becoming a human gate, a yet to be awakened conduit for his patron's eventual emergence onto this plane of existence. ( _At the end of the game, score 4 Influence for every Warfare Quest and every Arcana Quest completed_ )

Amber Gainsborough – **Bard** – If one asked A. Gainsborough what she wanted, she would likely say nothing, knowing that it was inopportune to admit to a desire for not just fame, but power. Third-born of a powerful noble line, she was destined to be married off to some suitor to increase her family's influence, but refused to be merely a pawn in _someone else_ 's game of thrones. Fleeing her ancestral home with nothing more than the clothes on her back, a lute, and an enchanted rapier called the Luck Blade, she struggled, but eventually found her way to Swinverrucas, where her skill as an entertainer – and perhaps a bit of help from her rapier – have enabled her to seize hold of…a great many people's weaknesses. ( _At the end of the game, score 4 Influence for every Skullduggery Quest and Commerce Quest completed_ )

Phelan Noel – **Paladin** – Second-born to a noble line, given to the Church as a youth to avoid a succession dispute within the House of Noel. Though not blessed with the aptitude to be a particularly good cleric, he proved more enthusiastic at the more martial callings of his god. His vitality and desire to become something more gained the favor of his god, and so he was made a paladin. While wandering the roads, doing good deeds in the name of his deity, and rising in rank in his Order, he (and his guide, a man named Fil'ich) stumbled upon the ancient Vault of Secrets and its guardian beast, a venom-eyed basilisk. They were defeated by the creature, with Fil'ich devoured and Phelan left for dead, though before he slipped from this mortal coil, he was rescued by a traveling bard and her companion. Together, they found their way to Swinverrucas, where he, in the wake of the Archmagus' untimely death, he has risen to assume command of the Order's forces in the fortress city. ( _At the end of the game, score 4 Influence for every Warfare Quest and every Engineering Quest Completed_ )

Natsumi Suzuki – **Rogue / Sorcerer** – Once a prosperous merchant's daughter, until her house fell into ruin due to the machinations of rival clans, with her father dying in a reckless attempt to discover a lost treasure to restore their fortunes. In the years that followed, she became a fairly successful pickpocket and thief, partially due to her drive to take revenge on the houses which ruined hers, and partially because she needed to support her ailing mother. Her luck ran out, however, on the day she attempted to pull one over on a woman from across the Eastern Sea. What exactly happened after that is unknown, but when it was over, the woman was gone - as was the entire town. The Houses on which she'd sought revenge. What was left of her family. Everything. Erased as if it never was. All that remained was her, and the gift of magic newly awakened within her. Wanting to find out more about the woman who changed her life forever – the Maiden of Winter – she found her way to Swinverrucas, where her old skills – and new – have brought her close to the centers of power. ( _At the end of the game, score 4 Influence for every Skullduggery Quest and Arcana Quest completed_ ).

Hermione Granger – **Ranger** – As a child from a village close to Swinverrucas, Granger wanted nothing more in her youth than to become a wizard and learn the arcane arts. The day she received the letter informing her that she had been chosen as the Archmagus' latest apprentice was the happiest of her life. Yet joy became tragedy, for as she entered the Archmagus' office, she found him murdered, with a warlock standing over his flayed and blackened form, devouring his soul as per the demands of his foul patron. Granger was left alive, but lost the ability to cast spells due to her trauma. She and her later Master's former disciples have banded together to claim the city their Master once ruled, yet in the wake of his passing, other factions have risen. To claim what she believes to be rightfully hers and avenge her fallen Master, she seeks to gain dominance over the other factions and crush them once and for all. ( _At the end of the game, score 4 Influence for every Warfare Quest and Skullduggery Quest completed_ )

Ernie Macmillan – **Wizard** – A wizard from a family of wizards, Macmillan was a native of the city of Swinverrucas, though not one who was especially fond of the ruling Archmagus. In the power vacuum left behind by the man's death, his family – and their faction – saw an opportunity to take over the training of young wizards, democratizing the process – and earning, a fair bit of coin in the process. ( _At the end of the game, score 4 Influence for every Arcana Quest and Commerce Quest completed_ )

Draco Malfoy – **Fallen** **Noble** – The Malfoy family was once the most potent force in Swinverrucas, thanks to their political influence, their legal acumen, and their wise investments in real estate. Following the rise of the Archmagus and his allies, however, they were relegated to a second-tier power in the fortress city, but managed to survive where most others were destroyed, thanks to a pragmatic outlook and sheer bloody-minded determination. After the Archmagus' demise, they were the primary suspect, but the death of Lucien Malfoy, the former head of the family at the hands of what was apparently a warlock, has alleviated his heir of suspicion, giving them a fighting chance at regaining their former glory. ( _At the end of the game, score 6 Influence for every Building owned_ )

Sialim Sokaris – **Artificer** – A mysterious Alchemist from a distant land who arrived at in Swinverrucas shortly before the Archmagus' demise, rumored to possess the legendary Philosopher's Stone, an artifact capable of granting its creator powerful abilities such as the ability to negate arcane – or divine – magic in an area, raise the dead, remove spiritual corruption, and eliminate any material or verbal requirement for spellcasting. Her motives are unknown, with several parties claiming to have hired her for various, perfectly legitimate reasons. In the wake of the fall of the Archmagus, she chose to stay, and as the single most powerful spell-caster in what was effectively a magocracy, commands a large amount of influence. ( _At the end of the game, score 4 Influence for every Engineering Quest and Arcana Quest completed_ )

* * *

A/N: Yes, this is effectively a re-skinned **Lords of Waterdeep.** Fun game, highly recommend it!


	31. Gifts and Curses

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 30.** _Gifts and Curses_

Matou Shinji dreamed, and in the dream, he found himself back in Japan, walking along Jozenji-dori street in Sendai with a lovely companion, the feeling of her warm fingers intertwined with his filling his heart with a joy he'd never felt before in his life. For the first time in his life his body felt light, and his soul at peace, as if God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.

He stole a glance at the girl beside him, his cheeks heating up in the brisk air of the evening as he saw her in a beautiful white dress – a wedding dress of silk and lace and taffeta that shone with the reflected glory of the thousands of lights around them. She caught his eye, smiling slightly as she glanced down at the matching white tuxedo he wore as he stood by her side, amidst the pageantry of the season.

On either side of the street, a forest of _zelkova_ trees loomed, their snow-clad branches draped with countless glowing orbs as they shimmered against the jet-black sky. And around them, music swirled, notes of song from the lips of many, from drums, and from metallic instruments that the boy marveled that anyone could play on a snowy day.

And of course…

"Congratulations!"

The endless sea of well-wishers who had come to greet them and celebrate their happiness.

"Congratulations!"

Santa Clauses – a veritable parade of them in all shapes and sizes.

"Congratulations!"

Cheerleaders – who thankfully, were not quite in all shapes and sizes.

"Congratulations!"

Everyday people on the street, calling out to them, smiling at them, saluting them, bowing to them, as if they were royalty...

It was a heady feeling, one he was secretly thrilled by as he squeezed his lover's hand, and she in turn squeezed his. So many people, there to wish him well. _Him_. Acknowledging him. Wishing for his happiness.

' _Thanks to her…'_

She who had stood by him from the beginning, who had stuck with him through thick and thin, who accepted him despite his (many, many) flaws and troubles.

And so, they walked together along the street drenched in starlight, with people murmuring as they passed, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of them as they approached what awaited them at the road's end – brilliantly lit tree of crystal, a sacred tree before which vows were made and sworn.

"I do," he said, in response to something someone said – having only eyes for the one beside him.

"I do," she said, with both turning to one another.

With trembling hands, he lifted the veil hiding her features, and drew her to him, as she leaned in, eyes closed, and—

* * *

Matou Shinji awoke, his eyes opening upon an unfamiliar ceiling as he found himself cold and alone on Christmas morning, a profound sense of loneliness filling his heart as he realized that had come before was just…a dream. Yet…it had felt so real.

Everything...everything had been perfect. And then he'd woken up been torn away from that world where everything was…where nothing had been wrong.

' _I guess I should at least be thankful it was a nice dream this time…'_

That unlike the dreams he'd been having the past few days, it hadn't ended in tragedy – though he supposed that being ripped from it just as he was about to kiss…

' _Huh…who was I about to kiss?'_

The shock of awakening had muddled his memory of her features, and with how the warm amber lights all around them had dyed everything in their own color, he couldn't even recall the color of her hair. Perhaps it had been black or chestnut brown? It had seemed dark, but perhaps he had been seeing things. Perhaps it had been a coppery color or some shade of blonde? All he knew was that it had been lustrous, and that she had been beautiful – and happy to be with him.

 _'It wasn't purple, at least,'_ he thought cynically, his blood curdling as his mind supplied the details of a worst-case scenario – one where he wound up being married to the…the _usurper_ who had stolen everything from him. Where he would be forced to…to do _things_ with her to continue the bloodline, to support her, to smile in public as if he was _happy_ about that, all the while knowing that such a thing, such an arrangement would be made only out of _pity._

Even if they weren't blood related, the prospect of walking like that alongside his sister – of being brainwashed by someone into thinking she was anything close to kind or virtuous – made him want to vomit, made him want to fly into a rage and destroy everything in his sight, as spots of black and red danced in his vision.

It would…it would be so easy to…

' _No. No._ _ **No**_ **.'**

He clutched at the ring he wore on a chain around his neck, using the sensation of cold metal digging into his skin to center himself on the here and now. He wasn't…he wasn't in Fuyuki. He wasn't with _her_. He was in Exton Hall, the ancestral home of the Noel Twins. His friends. His friends from Hogwarts.

' _That's right. I'm in Britain._ '

In Britain.

About as far from Fuyuki as one could get.

Wearing a symbol of the friendship between him and the twins – well, at least between him and _Amber_ , who had bought him the ring – the ring-dial, rather – during the trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon.

' _I didn't even know ring-dials existed, but I suppose people needed a way to tell the time before we had things like watches and reliable clocks.'_

So, he had learned from Selina during their exploration of the British Museum's horology collection. She hadn't mentioned that hundreds of years ago, the rich used to wear – or at least, carry in their pockets – little sun-dials in the shape of rings. One would simply have to hold it up to the sun, after setting it for the appropriate month (and latitude, if need be), and position of the sun on the inside of the band would indicate the time.

This, Amber had told him after he'd asked about the ring in the gift shop of the Shakespeare Trust, even buying it for him as a souvenir. Phelan had glared at him as Amber teased him by wondering aloud whether to put it on his finger, before Shinji had insisted that wearing it on a chain would be fine, to which she'd pouted, but had acquiesced – much to the boy's relief.

After all, if he were to wear a ring given to him by a girl – wouldn't people misunderstand? Even…even senpai might get the wrong idea…

But then he smirked, remembering what had come after that awkwardness, when _Tonks_ had caught sight of curious brass bangle fashioned after a 17th-century pocket dial in the Trust's collections, and Phelan, red-faced, had bought it for her.

' _It's good to see that_ he _has awkward moments every now and then.'_

Though the earl's younger son, seemed so full of vigor and bluster, he too had his own bits of insecurity, especially around Miss Tonks, which Shinji found rather amusing.

' _Everyone has a weakness, after all…'_

Even if that weakness wasn't quite as visible or obvious as his own.

' _Well, I guess for now, that was just a dream. Maybe brought on by all that talk of stealing mead-benches and feasting, though I don't know why I dreamed of Sendai. I only saw the parade…ah. That's right.'_

He'd seen the parade with…the man who had claimed to be his father. That was the last time before everything had…

'… _whatever. None of that means anything. It's just a dream, after all...'_

And it wasn't like he had some talent in divination, unlike Selina.

 _'Well, time to get up, I suppose,'_ he mused to himself, wondering that Amber hadn't come knocking on the door as usual – though perhaps his lack of screaming had something to do with it. _'...I wonder what is planned for today?'_

* * *

What was planned, apparently, was the family's annual visit to Canterbury Cathedral, since as nobility that happened to belong to the Church of England, this was more or less expected – all the more so since the Lady Gainsborough (Amber's mother) had been one of Princess Diana's ladies-in-waiting, and the royal family would be in attendance.

"Really?" Shinji asked when he heard this, after having had to rush through morning preparations to get into the car so they could be on their way. "They'll be at this Canterbury Cathedral, not somewhere else?"

"Well, normally they'd attend St. Mary Magdalene, in Sandringham, near the Queen's country estate, where they spend the winter," Amber told him, from where she was seated beside him in the limousine, dressed in something like a formal dress. "But not this year."

"Oh? What's so different about this year?"

"We have a new Archbishop of Canterbury," a new voice spoke up, this being the voice of one Henry Robert Anthony Noel, Viscount Campden, and heir apparent to the earldom of Gainsborough. Feature-wise, he much resembled Phelan, though thankfully, he seemed much more…restrained. "And he will be giving the Christmas address. "He was just enthroned this April, and so will be giving the Christmas message."

"Ah," Shinji said, his face a study in confusion. "I see."

He didn't really, and this was plain to see for all of the other youths – the Earl and the Countess had fortunately ridden in another car, and were not there to see his lack of knowledge.

"…do you know much about the Church of England?" Henry questioned, his green eyes curious.

"…not really," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. "Aside from the few times I was made to go to chapel during boarding school years ago, I've never even set foot in a Church."

And for good reason, for though there was a non-aggression pact between the Association and the Church, it wasn't as if untoward things didn't happen.

"The closest I ever came to that in Japan was…" he trailed off.

"Yes?" Henry prompted the younger boy.

"...when I went to the house of the Second Owner of Fuyuki," Shinji recalled, his voice flat. "Even though she…practices the same craft my family does, she has ties to the Church. Her guardian is even a priest."

"Her guardian is…a priest?" Amber echoed, her tone curious. Such a thing wasn't unheard of, though in a case like this… "Even though she practices magic?"

"I think he was her father's apprentice in magecraft or something. So, after her parents died, he took custody of her, as an apprentice should," the boy reasoned, only for all three of the Noel children to look at him oddly. "What? What did I say?"

"…a priest was learning magic?" Henry voiced, seeming uncertain about this. "Truly? I didn't know such a thing was…permitted." And that was putting it lightly. "At least, I'm fairly sure no priest of the Church of England is supposed to..."

"I don't think he's part of the Church of England?" Shinji offered, though this didn't really satisfy any of them. "I mean, I don't know him. I've never even met him. Just heard of him."

"So, this Second Owner…she lives in a house all by herself then?"

"That's right," Shinji nodded. "A house on a hill, one of the great mansions in our city." He smiled slightly as he recalled the rumors about it. "People say it belongs to a witch."

"Is…is she pretty?" Amber asked, her voice unusually soft.

"Very," the boy responded, noting how she seemed a little disappointed by that, and how that made him feel bad. "Though not as much as you," he added hastily.

Seeing her smile at him for that remark made him feel quite warm, and as long as he chose to ignore how Phelan was glowering at him like an overprotective wolf, he thought things were fine.

"Anything else you want to know?" he asked.

* * *

Later, after they'd returned from the service at the grand cathedral and the hearty lunch that followed, Shinji reflected that it was somewhat amusing that the day after visiting the birthplace of William Shakespeare, he should find himself in the city where Christopher "Kit" Marlowe – one of his greatest contemporaries was born, possibly sitting in the pews that the great playwright might have once sat in as a child.

It made him wonder if there had been any other great talents in the cathedral that day who would one day rise to prominence.

' _Maybe that Bloom fellow who was sitting next to Henry during the service?'_ the boy wondered. _'Wouldn't that be something if he became a great actor or something.'_

Still, for all the weight of history and his environs, with the Royal family itself in attendance, the Archbishop of Canterbury, The Most Reverend and Right Honourable Doctor George Carey, Primate of All England, seemed rather less impressive in person than his titles and styles implied.

Less imposing that he would have imagined of a head of a church.

' _He just looked like an old man.'_

Oddly, the message the Archbishop gave had been very down to earth, one that wasn't filled with joy and celebration, or of condemnation for wrongdoing, but one that reminded those in attendance of the calling that Christians had in a world filled with pain. For while it is easy to speak of the glory of the coming of Christ, one should remember that when he was born into this world, he was born into it in a stable, with his family fleeing to Egypt to escape persecution for political reasons soon after.

As such, the first Christmas Message of the Archbishop spoke not of the need for worship and give thanks out of gratitude, but the need to remember that while they worshiped this morning, many others were mired in refugee camps, oppression, and cruel hardship. There was great pain in this world, and as Christians, it was the privilege of each and every member of the Church to bring hope and healing to their fellow man, however they could.

For as Christ came into the world on a mission of love from God, he called his disciples to share that mission – a mission that is sometimes forgotten amongst the complexities of life and religion.

"Do not forget the fundamental message of our faith – the generosity and goodness, forgiveness, and love that the Savior showed us. Remember this, for these things are powers the Enemy knows not, and with time and effort, these can bring light to even the darkest, most clouded heart. In this broken world, we all walk among fields littered with shards of broken glass. Let us not simply rejoice that we have shoes, but lift up those not as fortunate, cleaning their wounds, wrapping their feet, carrying them on our backs until they are healed, that they too, might lift up others."

So the man had said, which was nothing like what the boy had expected. If this was what happened in Church of England sermons, it...didn't seem so bad, really, especially not when service was followed by an excursion to the Blazing Donkey for a sumptuous lunch, and then a return to Exton Hall, where presents were exchanged over tea.

He was honestly rather stunned to find a small pile of presents just for him, having expected very little from anyone.

From Selina had come a copy of a game she had designed – the _Lords of Swinverrucas_ , whatever Swinverrucas meant, with Amber suggesting they find some time to play it later, as she and Phelan had all received copies as well.

From Amber, there was an anklet which the girl told him was imbued with a calming charm.

"I remember how…distraught you've been these last few mornings," she murmured to him as she leaned close to him and handed him her gift. "This might help."

"…thanks," the boy responded, touched that she would give him something like that. She'd…worried about him. It…was interesting feeling, having someone concerned for his well-being.

And it had felt even more… _interesting_ when she'd knelt before him to slip the anklet around his leg, though he didn't know why he had the…odd thoughts that he did, seeing her like that.

From Phelan, there was a copy of _Journeys with Jinns_ , the critically acclaimed account of Lockhart's first adventure.

From Natsumi, there was a small vial of gleaming gold liquid, with a note explaining that the vial contained enough Felix Felicis for about two hours.

'… _she's giving up some of what she won in the Masquerade incident for me…? Wow…'_ He…he really did need to do something nice for her, since she'd been by his side and helped him so much this year.

From Sokaris, there was a pass to the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library, signed by Quirrell, and the original version of the _Journal of the Hero of Light_ , which she had returned to him along with a copy, as promised.

' _I do feel bad. I need to get her something nice. Maybe I'll find something in Diagon Alley tomorrow?'_

From Tonks, there was a week's supply of Dreamless Sleep potion, and a book entitled _Wizards Are from Neptune, Witches Are from Saturn_ – a copy of which had also been sent to Phelan, much to his displeasure.

From Ernie, there was a gift certificate to Honeydukes.

And from the Noel family, there was a copy of _An Artist of the Floating World_ , a novel by the novelist Kazuo Ishiguro, one of Britain's leading writers – which Henry explained was the story of a man caught between two worlds, and two styles of craft.

"We thought you would like it, since I imagine you might miss home a bit," the heir apparent mentioned. "And he is quite the writer."

"I see…thanks."

Another pile of course, were his purchases from Gringotts and the store in Vertic Alley: holsters for him and the Noel Twins (with the rest having been delivered to other recipients), as well as a goblin-forged throwing knife that would slot nicely into one of those holsters.

"Wicked," Phelan exclaimed as Shinji handed over one holster to each of the twins. "Though why do you get two?"

"…because I have two wands?" the boy shot back.

Well, three, really, but it wasn't as if he needed to mention that.

"What? But why?" the would-be adventurer asked. "Isn't one enough?"

"…well, Sokaris gave me one earlier, said it was better for transfiguration."

"And then you got carried away and bought a new one from Ollivander's," Amber supplied.

"…yes. That."

"Heh. What will you do with the one you're not using then?" Phelan questioned. "That is, if you won't be using your feet to grip a third wand or giving yourself a tail or something."

Shinji just glared.

"What do you think I am, some kind of shapeshifting monster?" the Japanese boy growled, only to realize belatedly that such would not be an…incorrect characterization of himself. "I'm not my grandfather," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Your grandfather?" the would-be adventurer echoed.

"Oh, never mind that," Shinji replied, his voice tight. "Merry Christmas. You'll be delighted to know that these have been enchanted to be more durable, and will make your wands – and the holster - invisible while you're wearing them."

"Huh. Thanks!" the boy grunted, quickly putting it on and going to his room to get his wand, so he could test how the rod fit into the slot.

"Boys…" Amber sighed, but took the holster with a grateful smile anyway. "You didn't have to, you know."

"I could say the same about you," he responded, looking warmly at his friend, before Phelan came running back, his steps slowing as he glanced between his sister and the Japanese boy suspiciously.

"So…since you've all brought up magic," Henry interrupted, letting the tension in the air dissipate. "Why don't you tell me about this school you've been at for the last term."

And so they did, speaking of their adventures, politics of the houses, Quirrell's challenges, and some of their odder friends, with Shinji chiming in here and there, mostly about the people he'd met – people like Miyuki-senpai or Sokaris, who he looked up to, people like Lady Selina and Ernie, his comrades in the challenges. People like Granger, the wicked woman who stopped at nothing to try and make his life miserable, or like the hapless Draco Malfoy, and his bet with Lady Selina.

People like Professor Dumbledore, the odd-thinking headmaster, or Professor Quirrell, who had taught him so much about the world and different ways to look at it. People like Professor Binns, the phantom professor who made even rebellions and wars sound boring.

"So, like many other history professors then?" Henry joked.

"…more or less," Shinji replied, with a grudging smile. "At least they don't have to pay him?" he continued, recalling something Tonks had said. "I heard that once a teacher is tenured, it's difficult to get rid of them, but I thought normally that ends with death."

"It sounds like quite a school," Henry murmurs, listening to his younger siblings – and their friend – speak of their magical studies and the people they met along the way. "Though I do believe I have heard some of these names before. This Tsuji...is this the heiress of the Tsuji group you used to go to school with, Amber? And this Natsumi – she was your old roommate, yes?"

"Yes, to both," Amber replied, with a hint of pink on her cheeks. "Although she's Matou's housemate now, not mine."

"Ah. I'm surprised you two weren't roommates again, with how close you were," the heir apparent remarked. "I take it you didn't know she'd be going to Hogwarts?"

"That and dear Phelan tricked me into joining the house of adventurers, instead of one of the others."

"Trick you, sister? Hardly that," Phelan scoffed, his lips curling into a roguish smirk. "Be honest. You tricked yourself. All I had to do was mention how Gryffindor was a noble house steeped in tradition, and how, with the lion on its heraldry, it was the most British of them all." He chuckled. "Besides, which one would you have joined, if left to your own devices? Slytherin, with the other nobles?"

"Well, there is one adventurer among them, as I recall," Amber commented slyly. "One you rather fancy, in fact."

"I-I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," Phelan said stiffly. "I don't fancy-"

"Shall I tell Lady Selina that then?" the copper-haired girl teased. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to know she's wasting her time trying to catch your attention."

"Heh, I'm sure she's not – " And then Amber's words sank in, with his eyes bugging out. "...d-did you say she was trying to get my attention, truly?" the boy asked, not quite indifferently enough to avoid his twin's notice.

"Leaving my siblings and their quarrels aside," Henry noted with a dismissive gesture. "Tell me more about yourself, Mister Matou. My sister tells me you come from a magical household, and you did mention a few things about others with magic – this Second Owner being one."

"What's there to tell?" Shinji replied evasively, not really wanting to talk about this.

"Well, how about your family?" Henry asked. "Do you have any siblings of your own? A brother, perhaps, or a sister?"

Phelan broke off from his squabbling with Amber to glance at Shinji, seemingly curious about this mention of a relative.

"A sister?" the would-be adventurer echoed. "Ah, that's right – you mentioned one on the train."

"She's not really…" the boy began, his cheeks flushing with rage as he looked away. "She's adopted."

"Yes. You did say that," Phelan noted, recalling the very brief conversation they'd had, as well as Shinji's reaction to mention of her. "Is she pretty, I wonder?"

Shinji felt a surge of white-hot rage well up in him at the mention of his sister, with his body beginning to shake as—

His rage vanished, his emotions going dull as something cold washed over him. It was strange, how it made him feel detached, serene. As if the flash of anger had happened to someone else.

' _The anklet…?'_

It must be.

"I wouldn't know," the Japanese boy replied, his tone icy. "It's not like I look at…at my _sister_ like that." He blinked, feeling compelled to add a bit to it. "She's just someone we took in out of pity anyway, after the Second Owner's family threw her away."

"Threw her away?" Henry echoed, seemingly taken aback. "Are things truly so harsh in magical families?"

"Well, there can only be one heir," Shinji said diffidently. "And she wasn't good enough to become heiress of her family. Not compared to her sister, who was always considered a prodigy." He smiled thinly at the thought of Sakura being the one who was considered a cast off. "The worst thing that can happen in these cases is a succession dispute. It's not uncommon that siblings end up killing each other."

"So then, why did your family take her in?" Phelan questioned, finding an issue in what his friend mentioned. "After all, wouldn't that cause the same problem, since you're the heir of your family?" At those words, Shinji froze, not having expected the boorish Gryffindor to push like this. "Or are you?"

 _'No. No. Nononononono!'_

"I..." the boy began, his voice shaky. "I..." he tried again, as he swallowed, unable to stand how Amber glanced at him, something clicking in her mind.

"Oh, wait, I see. Since she's not related to you...maybe she's meant to be your future wife?" Phelan questioned, his eyes lighting up as if he'd realized something. "A union of your family and the Second Owner's, creating a tie of blood, just as in the old days. Is that right then? Is she…is she your intended? Your secret bride?" The earl's younger son was genuinely curious about this, even if his tone was somewhat pointed, given Shinji's interactions with his sister.

Yet, hearing this, Shinji seemed to be suffering, his breaths coming quicker, his fingers almost seeming to lengthen into claws, though perhaps it was only a trick of the light.

Black and red surged in Shinji's vision, the urge to crush and destroy everything around him burning through him, and he felt—he felt—

...a hand seized his, the sudden touch shocking him from his rage, as his grey eyes met Amber's green, and his anger dissipated.

"Are you alright?" she asked, worriedly, with Shinji swallowing as his heart hammered in his chest, before looking away, red-faced.

He'd…he'd almost…

"What, so you won't look at the girl who isn't really your sister that way, but you'll look at mine?" Phelan cracked, with the Japanese boy flinching – and Phelan following suit as his sister and older brother both glared at him. "What? What did I say?"

"...I wonder if he's going to say something that will get him in trouble with the Weasleys when he sees them tomorrow," Amber commented idly. "Or maybe he'll end up engaged to one of them and will have to deal with such issues himself."

"T-that will not happen, I am certain," the earl's younger son said stiffly. "I'm sure no one would misunderstand my simply doing what a knight would do. I simply wished to help out my friends in Gryffindor, since they have gone through so much. And if I arranged to make sure that Miss Weasley's books and supplies would be covered, what of it? Is that not my Christian duty?"

"...well, we'll see," Amber quipped, glancing at Shinji. "Anyway, let's talk about something else then, since Matou seems…bothered by all this. Maybe…maybe you can tell us more of the Second Owner you spoke of before?"

"…I suppose I could do that," Shinji stated, slumping back into a chair. "But where to begin?"

"The beginning is usually a good place," Amber chided.

"…right."


	32. Spent and Drained

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 31.** _Spent and Drained_

Matou Shinji stood in the foyer of the cottage that belonged to the Tonks fa—the cottage that now belonged to him, almost sagging in relief as he noticed how the babbling of the world outside had ceased, and how the world through his new set of glasses was so… _uncluttered._

' _It's been a very long day,'_ he thought to himself. Too long, really, and filled with far too many happenings for his liking, but it was over now. Maybe. Probably. He didn't think his mind could handle another natural (or unnatural) shock after—

And then the boy fell on his arse, yelping as something like a living stuffed animal appeared with a _crack_ before his eyes, bowing to him with its outsized legs and ungainly torso.

'… _no. Not a stuffed animal,'_ Shinji realized, noting that the face had been removed, with the bulbous eyes and bat-like ears of a house-elf visible through the resulting opening, and its spindly fingers protruding out of the ends of the stuffed arms and legs. _'…what the hell?'_

He'd heard that house-elves wore discarded items like pillowcases and tea-towels, and had been prepared to accept something like that, but this was…

' _What the hell?'_ he repeated in his mind, trying not to let any trace of the discomfort he felt from the contrast between ragged old plushie and wrinkled house-elf show on his face. _'Why. Why is he wearing a plushie?'_

"How can I be helping new Master?" the house-elf whispered in a voice that sounded like two stones grinding against one another. "Isa Master needing dinner? A bath? Or—"

"Dinner, please," Shinji said with a very strained smile, keeping the house-elf from finishing its sentence in a way that would give him nightmares for months to come.

…not that those would be worse than those where he ended up married to his _sister_ , or where the monster that called itself his grandfather killed him, or…

"Dinner," he repeated, shaking his head. "A basket of fried chicken, if you can manage that."

While he might not overly care for western food, fried chicken _was_ the traditional Christmas meal for people in Japan.

"Anything else I can being of help with, Master?" the house-elf asked.

"Can you make a pumpkin pudding, and some potato salad?" the boy replied, thinking back to his boyhood days, when he and…the man who had called himself his father had waited in line at KFC for hours for the Christmas bucket. "Maybe a sponge-cake too?"

"That, Rumpy can be doing," the creature agreed with a bow, as it popped out of sight, presumably vanishing to the kitchens.

'… _what a day,'_ he mused as he took off the glasses he'd purchased for the handy sum of _ten thousand Galleons_ and rubbed his eyes.

* * *

When he'd woken up the morning after Christmas, having slept a sound and dreamless sleep for the first time in many weeks (likely due to the potion he'd imbibed), he hadn't known what to expect, really. Perhaps he'd finally get a day to just rest, as the word _holiday_ seemed to imply? With catching up on his studies and being dragged onto one "adventure" after the next (well, sightseeing trips, really), he'd not really had a chance to collect and refresh himself.

Perhaps today, after Christmas had passed, and with a week until the New Year, he would be able to just forget his worries for a—

'… _no. That's right, I have to go to Gringotts.'_

Honestly, he didn't _want_ to, but the goblin who served as his account manager had presented him with some opportunities and told him he had until the day after Christmas to let him know if he was interested, and since he didn't own an owl, he supposed he would have to visit the bank in person.

And since Exton Hall wasn't a residence built by practitioners of witchcraft, nor connected to the Floo, their transportation network, he supposed he would have to ask Amber and her family if they wouldn't mind giving him a ride to London.

' _I feel really bad that I have to rely on them so much.'_

Fortunately, things had turned out better than he'd expected, since the Noel family had already been planning on heading into the city: Phelan, because he wanted to go to Diagon Alley and use the Floo to visit the Weasleys, Amber because she wanted to visit Natsumi and her family, and the rest of them because they always attended the King George VI Chase over in Surrey – a distance horse race in which competitors are required to jump diverse fence and ditch obstacles – which was the second most prestigious of its sort in England.

"Of course, you're very welcome to join us," Amber had replied brightly. "It would be a shame if you were left all alone in the manor."

"Huh, well, you can come visit the Weasleys with me if you'd like," Phelan had grunted. "Good old Ronald does owe you one for stopping Granger from making his head explode."

"…I don't _think_ she was going to make his head explode," Shinji had said, shaking his head. "She may be a…witch, but she isn't…well, maybe she _is_ that bad," he conceded, remembering the way she had treated him.

"All that aside," the earl's younger son had noted, waving off the Japanese boy's uncertainties, "maybe you'd like meeting a whole family of British wizards. You know, since you're magical and all yourself."

Shinji had attempted a smile, but the expression was so obviously pasted on that even Phelan had looked away.

"Maybe you'd like to join me for a visit to Natsumi's house?" Amber had spoken up. "You'd be able to meet her pig, Marten."

"A pig," he'd mused. "That could be fun. I've never seen a pig raised as a pet before."

Well, except in Ranma ½, but then again, life wasn't exactly a shonen manga.

"It's not any stranger than seeing goblins in a bank, is it?" Phelan had countered, glancing over at the two. "I mean, in all the books I read – _Lord of the Rings_ and the like – goblins supposed to be cruel, and wicked, slaking their lusts by plundering the possessions – and taking the lives – of the free peoples—"

"You mean…just like bankers?" Amber had quipped, with Shinji snorting despite himself. "You've seen how Gringotts works, with its storage fees, usurious interest rates, and of course, how it takes the properties of wizards who default on loans?"

Phelan shuddered.

"…fine. Maybe goblins working as bankers make more sense than I thought," the youth had muttered. "Society is scary."

"Yes. Yes it is," Amber had agreed. "Just as scary and dangerous as those unknown lands you often dream about visiting. And unlike those lands, you can't get by with just a sword on your back, goblin-forged or not."

"That's another thing," Phelan had grumbled. "Why is it goblins who forge swords and armor?"

"Because there are no dwarves?" Amber had offered, to which Phelan made a face. "And the elves are, well…"

House-elves just didn't fit the Tolkienesque image of an elf, really, and they seemed far too servile to ever have really been a proud people.

"Just once, I'd like to see some masterwork that's not made by goblins in the magical world," the earl's younger son had sighed. "If non-magical folk can make something like that golden ship we saw in the museum, why can't wizards?"

"Maybe Mister Weasley's parents will have some idea of that," Amber had remarked, whereupon the boy had nodded

"Huh, that's right," Phelan had said. "They might, at that. I keep forgetting that they're purebloods, since he well…"

"…looks like a poor street urchin?" his sister had supplied. "And is about as uncouth as one?"

Phelan had winced.

"I wouldn't go _that_ far, but he, well, he doesn't act like Malfoy either," the earl's son had replied. "Then again, I never really forget that Ernie is a pureblood, so…" He'd shrugged. "Well, maybe clothes do matter. A little."

Making such an admission to his sister of all people had _hurt_ , but then again…even Gilderoy Lockhart, the greatest adventurer in all of Britain, would agree that while substance mattered more than appearance, appearances could affect what one thought of substance.

"Is that why one of your gifts to the Weasley family was a set of new books and clothes for their youngest?"

"Well. Boys can take being made fun of," Phelan had sniffed. "We're tough, after all, right Matou? But I wouldn't want a girl to have to suffer such a fate. They're delicate, after all – present company excluded."

"…and to think I was about to say that even _you_ could be a gentleman sometimes."

* * *

Sometime later, following a car trip which he endured while dressed up in some of the fine clothes he'd bought in Vertic Alley, and being peppered with questions about Japan, Hogwarts, magic, and everything else under the sun he could think of, Matou Shinji had been dropped off in front of a rather large townhouse in London, alongside Amber Noel.

"Is this where Natsumi lives?" Shinji had asked, marveling at just how _large_ it was.

"When she and her family are in the city, yes," Amber had replied. "They have an estate in Surrey as well, but aren't often there."

"Huh."

Shinji had blinked as the duo walked up the path from the curb to the door and rang the bell, with a rather casually dressed Natsumi answering it a moment later, with Marten, the black potbelly pig, trotting along behind her.

"Ah, Matou-kun! Amber!" the cheerful chestnut-haired girl had exclaimed at the sight of them. "Welcome!"

"Merry Christmas," Amber had offered, pressing a small box into the other girl's hands. "It's a day late, but…"

"Eh, late, early, close enough," Natsumi had said, though Shinji noticed her giving the box a discreet shake. "At least you remembered."

"Of course. I would never forget my best friend. After all, how many years have we been together?" Amber had noted warmly, with Natsumi leaning in and giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Long enough," the other girl had responded, while Shinji looking on, went red as his imagination…grew perhaps a bit overheated. "Thanks." She'd glanced over at Shinji and sighed, noting the reaction on his face. "Matou-kun, have you been well?"

"I-I, uh, I, uh, yes," the boy had finally managed to reply. "Did you receive my present?"

In answer, Natsumi just lifted the sleeve of her dress, revealing the wyvern-hide holster she wore on her arm.

"It was lovely, thank you," the chestnut-haired girl had noted, bowing her head a bit. "Thank you, Matou-kun. Did you get mine?"

The boy couldn't help but notice that she hadn't given _him_ a kiss, but then, he remembered that she wasn't exactly used to being around boys, so…it would probably have been too familiar.

"I did," Shinji had responded, giving her a deep bow. "I…thank you."

"None of that, Matou-kun! We're close enough that you don't need to do these kinds of things, right?" Natsumi had remarked.

"Even so, giving me an hour's worth of _Felix Felicis…_ that's too much," the boy had answered. "You won that potion, while I…I fell into Slughorn's trap," he'd admitted bitterly. Yes, the Potions Master had said that she could split up the potion as she wished, but he'd hardly expected her to give him some of her precious luck – as much as he probably needed it.

"Then hopefully this will keep you from falling into a trap again," the Japanese girl had said brightly. Glancing at the both of them, she'd stepped back. "Come in!"

And so they had.

Amber had obviously been there before, given how at home she acted, but even Shinji – to his surprise – had felt comfortable as he trailed behind them, marveling at the tasteful – and obviously Japanese – décor.

The morning passed in a blur, what with tea, pleasant conversation, and an introduction to Natsumi's parents (as well as her very temperamental pig, which seemed to prefer Amber's lap to his). But then, he'd thought to himself, that was fine, since he would prefer Amber's lap too.

"Thank you for taking care of Natsumi," her parents had said to him.

"No, she's the one who takes care of me," Shinji had responded, quite gravely at that. "She and Miyuki-senpai." And then, feeling a pressure from beside him. "And Miss Amber."

They'd chatted for a time, before Natsumi's parents had noted that they needed to go to an event at the Victoria and Albert Museum, where the New Years' Gala that he was attending with Amber and Natsumi would be in just a few days.

"Did you want to come with us, Natsumi, or did you want to spend more time with your friends?" her mother had asked.

Shinji, feeling the urge to speak, had glanced over at the chestnut-haired girl.

"If you want, Amber and I are going to the Magical part of London for a while," he'd offered, recalling that she hadn't been able to come with them when the large group had gone. "I have some business to take care of, but after that, it might be fun to wander around." He'd paused. "I mean, only if you want to. If you don't, that's—"

"I'd love to."

* * *

Thinking that Natsumi and Amber wouldn't really be interested in speaking to Gimblegyre, his account manager at Gringotts, Shinji asked them to browse the shops of Diagon Alley without him, most of which were apparently open – though unlike the Muggle side of London, apparently there were no Boxing Day deals to be had.

' _Then again, I wonder if Christmas is really a big deal for practitioners of witchcraft, or if they only celebrate it to blend in with those around them.'_

He rather had the impression that Halloween was a much bigger deal, given the massive feast that the school had put on the night of October 31, as well as events like the Masquerade, not that he could imagine a good reason for this.

' _Maybe they're still scared of non-magical people, and Halloween is the one day they can come out of hiding, without anyone really suspecting them of being more than they are?'_

It was hard to say, really, as he hadn't given it much thought. Nor did he have time for such contemplation today, for the moment he stepped through the doors of Gringotts, he was intercepted by a waiting goblin.

"Mister…Matou?" the goblin had rasped, with the diminutive humanoid peering up at him uncertainly.

"Yes?"

"…Manager Gimblegyre awaits," the guard had noted, directing him to a chair at the end of a rather long hallway, the door at the end of which led to a rather cavernous office, if he remembered correctly.

After some minutes, the door had opened, with what looked like Draco Malfoy and his father, of all people, emerging. Neither spared him a glance, of course, but then, he was somewhat unimportant.

"Father, are you certain that it was a wise idea to cede 12 Grimmauld Place to Aunt Andromeda?" the young blond had inquired, with the older man fixing his son with a gimlet stare. "Since we acquired it, should it not remain in the family?"

"Since it is going to your Aunt – and your cousin – it _is_ remaining in the family, Draco," Lucius Malfoy had stated. "And should you and your newly betrothed, the young Miss Black, find yourselves on good terms when you graduate from Hogwarts, perhaps it will even be something you own one day."

Draco's nose had wrinkled as he screwed his face up in displeasure.

"At my age? Engaged? To that troublemaking Hufflepuff?" the young blond had fumed. "But…what of my life at Hogwarts? What of—"

"—the things you have left out of your letters, such as your dispute with this ' _Lady'_ Selina?"

The young Slytherin's face, already remarkably free of pigment to begin with, grew even paler, if that were possible.

"I – everything is under control, father!"

"Which is why you have been seen referring to a _Mudblood_ as a Lady, and have not protested being labelled her manservant?" Lucius' tone was remarkably cold. "I was unaware that accepting such a state of subservience to such a one was having ' _everything under control_.'"

"Father, I—it's a ruse."

"A ruse? Do explain, my son."

"By allowing her to do as she wishes for now, I aim to make her lower her guard, and once she is vulnerable…"

Lucius sighed.

"By which you mean she is stronger than you, else you would not need to resort to such ridiculous lengths."

"I-it isn't my fault. Slytherin is full of blood traitors who have flocked to her side!"

"And why would they not, seeing how she crushed a Malfoy?" the older man had stated with impatience, as if explaining something incredibly obvious to a child. "Do you not understand that by making a wager with her, by accepting her terms, you acknowledged her as an equal? Approaching her – seeking to crush her – _that_ was your mistake."

"Wha…do you mean I should have ignored her? A mudblood in the heart of Slytherin's house?"

Shinji had blinked to see Lucius Malfoy quite visibly take a breath, as if having to explain any of this was…frustrating beyond words.

"Yes!" the older man had hissed. "Had you done do, your peers would have followed your example in considering her someone beneath your notice. Yet, you did not, and worse, you allowed her to outplay you at your own game. Through your acknowledgement, your peers accepted her as an equal. Through your loss, they saw her as your better. Thus, why I must resort to…more drastic measures, such as giving you a fiancée whose lineage is unimpeachable."

"U-unimpeachable? B-but N-nymphadora isn't even a pureblood!" Draco had nearly screeched. "Her father was a mud—"

"Her father was a war hero, who died in battle against the Dark Lord, and she herself is the only daughter of Andromeda _Black –_ the current head of house," Lucius had interjected. " _That_ is what people will remember. That through her – and you – Black and Malfoy will finally be completely, irrevocably tied in ways more timeless than gold."

"Father, I—"

"Draco, I am not giving you a choice." Shinji had almost – _almost –_ sympathized as he witnessed Draco Malfoy's mouth closing with a _click_ , with a look of horror and despair crossing the blond boy's features. "You have already brought shame upon our family with your selfishness. Pray do not shame us further."

With that, the two had walked away, out of earshot, with Gimblegyre poking his small head out of the room some moments later, eyes widening as he saw Shinji seated on a chair beside his office.

"Ah, Matou. Come in, come in…"

The boy did as the goblin had directed, with the Account Manager offering him tea.

"Have you decided if the items I mentioned are of interest?"

Said items being, of course, a country cottage, Nimbus 2001 prototypes, a bespoke wardrobe, and tickets to the Minister's Ball, the New Years' Eve gala event where one could hobnob with the movers and shakers of Britain – for a price.

"Some."

"Very well then. What have decided on?"

"…I'll take the cottage," the boy had said, with a nod. Thirty thousand Gallleons wasn't a bad price for an elegantly appointed country cottage, especially one that already had modern amenities and came with a house elf. "I expect there is some paperwork to fill out for that?"

"Yes. I will have that ready in a moment," the goblin had responded. "Is there aught else you were interested in purchasing?"

"A pair of tickets for the Minister's Ball, and one of the so-called Duelist Wardrobes."

"Excellent choices," the goblin had stated, sliding over some folders, as well as two slips to sign. "Sign these, and we will transfer the money from your account."

"...very well." The boy had glanced over the slips, and, seeing nothing overly objectionable, signed his name where indicated, authorizing a transfer of 7000 Galleons from his account. "And the paperwork for the cottage?"

"Sign this." The goblin slid a form authorizing a transfer of 30,000 Galleons from his account, with the money to be held in escrow until his name was put on the deed. "And now, we go to the Ministry."

"The Ministry?"

"Yes."

* * *

And so it was that after a rather roundabout turn of events, Matou Shinji had found himself sitting in a room at the Ministry's office of records, across from none other than his acquaintance, Auror Trainee Tonks, who seemed taken aback at the sight of him.

"…this isn't a joke, is it?" she'd asked, trying to see if there was anyone else around. "You're the buyer?"

"I am."

"...and you're not a metamorphmagus who has decided to infiltrate Hogwarts for some reason, are you?" she'd asked sharply. "Using a false name, perhaps?"

"Would I admit it if I was?" Shinji had snorted, not really expecting an answer. "Can we get to business? The money is in escrow, waiting to be transferred once you deliver the receipt of the new filing."

"I suppose it's really none of my business as long as you're not breaking any laws." The Auror trainee looked uncomfortable, but shook her head. "Just tell me one thing. Why a house?"

"...it sounded like a good idea at the time?"

"Just like most other bad decisions in the world," Tonks had noted with a mixture of amusement and resignation. "...well, you're definitely that Noel kid's friend, I'll say that." Then she'd smiled, a bit slyly. "So, will it just be you who owns the house?" She' lowered her voice, her lips curving up into a saucy smile. "Or will you be sharing it with Miss Noel. Your girlfriend, right?"

"I-its not like that!" Shinji had exclaimed, blushing violently at the insinuation. "D-don't get the wrong idea. Sh-she's not my girlfriend or anything."

"If you say so, Mister Matou. If you say so."

And so, they filled out the paperwork, with Shinji putting his name down as the new – sole – owner on a form she'd supplied, and Nymphadora _Black_ signing her agreement to the proposed change.

"Black?" Shinji had echoed. "I thought your name was Tonks?"

"…if it's all the same to you, I don't want to go into it right now. And it's none of your business anyway."

She'd looked away, the expression on her face distant.

"Well…that's fair."

* * *

All this business took longer than he expected, but at last, the boy was able to join his comrades, who by now had looked through most of Diagon Alley and had moved onto clothes shopping in Vertic Alley, something that likewise took longer than most boys would expect.

"Oh, you're back," Amber had noted, seeing him walk through the door of _Twilfitt and Tattings._ "We're almost done here. Care to carry our bags?"

Shinji, not really feeling like protesting, had agreed.

"And then, maybe onto Horizont Alley?" he'd suggested

"Horizont?" Amber had echoed. "Well, I confess I wouldn't mind seeing some masterworks that aren't goblin made."

If there was anywhere where such things could be found in Magical Britain, it was Horizont Alley, home to the best craftsmen and artisans in all of Wizarding Britain. On most occasions, it catered exclusively to the upper-class, with everything made to order and priced in the thousands of galleons (at least).

And well, the _Duelist Wardrobe_ establishment was located there anyway, and he needed to get measurements of himself taken.

"Neither would I," Natsumi had chimed in as she walked over to the group, wearing a dress as dark as night of some heavy, but fine woven fabric, and a mantle that seemed as if it was wrought from feathers. Streaks of red ran through her chestnut hair, and the odd cylinder – flashgun – that Quirrell had given to her was clipped inconspicuously to her waist. "How do I look?"

"Like a Dark Lady," Amber had quipped.

"Perfect," Natsumi had replied, twirling about prettily. "I thought I would buy myself something more western for formal occasions. Does it suit me?"

"Perfectly, Nats."

"Do you both have something to wear for the gala, by the way?" she'd asked.

"Nats, how long have you known me?" Amber had retorted.

"Well, true. And you, Matou-kun?" Natsumi had questioned.

"…not yet," Shinji had to admit, much to the Japanese girl's disappointment. "I mean, I will. I'll have something. I just need to visit a tailor later today anyway, over in Horizont alley."

"Would you rather wear a kimono?" she'd asked offhandedly. "My family can certainly arrange to have one made for you, if you'd prefer something eastern."

"Oh, yes, please!" the boy had replied, flushing slightly. Then, something else had come to mind. "Hey, Natsumi?"

"Yes?"

"Would you care to come to the Minister's Ball with me?" he'd asked, while his courage was still intact. "I mean, you don't have to, but if you're going to go out of your way to have a kimono made for me, and you got Amber and I tickets to the gala…"

"That sounds fun," Amber had noted, glancing at her old friend. "You should go."

"What is it?"

"A New Year's Eve gala to be held at the Ministry," the boy stated, "where you can no doubt meet all kinds of people."

"Oh, so like the award reception for the Professor, but fancier."

"Just about."

"I'll go." The girl's answer had come out as something like a murmur. "Thank you, Matou-kun."

"O-of course."

"But – does this mean I need to get another dress?" the girl had wondered, or—

"Let's just go with formal Kimonos," Shinji had replied. "I'm sure you have some of those."

Natsumi had been silent for a moment, before she answered

"Hm, well, I guess those are close enough to dress robes," she'd noted with a nod. She did enjoy the rare occasions when she was able to wear a formal kimono. There was something lovely and refined about them, after all, more so than a western dress - or dress robes, for that matter. "Ok." She'd hesitated for a moment. "These two galas aren't happening at the same time, right?"

"…I don't think so. I think one happens during the afternoon and evening of the eve, while the other is that night, heading into the new year."

"Perhaps the day before you can come over to my new cottage for a housewarming, and we can take the Floo over?" he'd suggested.

"Wait, what." Amber had been content to listen for a while, but felt compelled to respond to this latest outrageous statement from Shinji's mouth. "Your new cottage? I thought – weren't you staying at Exton Hall?"

"…well, yes." Shinji had looked around, not wanting to meet her eyes. "I just…the cottage is just across Exton Hall, so…."

"What. That's…there's no cottage there!" Amber had exclaimed. "I've been by. Many times, so how—"

"It was hidden magically, I guess?" Shinji had just shrugged. "All I know is it belonged to Auror Tonks, or I guess Auror Black now, and now belongs to me. She's moving to the city."

"…you own Auror Tonks' old house."

"…yes?"

"…furnished?"

"…yes?"

Amber had quickly found herself rubbing her temples, as if to stave off an impending headache.

"What?" Shinji had asked.

"You're going to be sleeping in the same room – probably the same bed – that that Auror used to. My brother is going to go spare."

"…you're all invited to visit? I'll have the house elf let you in whenever you want?"

"…maybe that will help."

* * *

After everything else, shopping in Horizont Alley had been a pleasant distraction from the rest of the days travails, given that the shopkeepers were – in addition to taking commissions – selling off the wondrous items they'd created as examples of their skill.

Mostly, aside from getting himself measured at the _Duelist's Wardrobe_ , he was looking for gifts, since it struck him that he hadn't really gotten Sokaris anything of note – not even a holster.

' _Well…she'll like this…'_

 _This_ referring to an amulet which drew/nullified magical attacks intended for the wearer from an establishment known only as _Henderson'_ s, a five thousand Galleon item purported to be the ultimate in defensive items.

Happily, that had been the first stop he'd made, even before the wardrobe, and he felt rather pleased to have found something so quickly.

Finding something for Miyuki-senpai had proved much more of a chore though, given that he wasn't sure if there was something she'd like.

Certainly, there was nothing that dealt with plants or potions – well, aside from a pocket-sized pensieve designed to allow easier memory modification (deletion, blending with more "generic" memories, etc), but he didn't think she was the sort who bothered with that kind of thing.

It wasn't until he arrived at _Corbenic's Curious Creations_ that he found items he thought might be useful - a pocketwatch, enchanted with the ability to track moving sources of magic (strength + distance) and the ability to jam apparition in an area, keeping people from coming in or out of the area of effect, selling for 8000 Galleons, and a set of glasses which essentially allowed those wearing them to use legilimency, and more, could be used to store the memories/information one gathered, 10000 Galleons.

Both of them seemed quite remarkable – though there was just one problem: those together would cost 18000 Galleons, and after everything he'd spent, he only had a bit more than 17000 in his account.

Seeing his hesitation, the proprietor, a wizened wizard long past his dueling days, had shuffled over from where he had been slumped in the back of the shop, his eyes lighting up as he saw a serious young man considering his items.

"You remind me of an old colleague of mine," he'd said without preamble. "A young man who worked for Borgin and Burkes before leaving for parts unknown. Wonder what became of him. Promising lad, though his past was quite...a riddle."

"I'm sure."

"You be looking for glasses?" the man had questioned. "Do you need lenses? For your eyes?"

"Um. No. My eyes are fine," Shinji had stated, feeling slightly nervous as the proprietor just _looked_ at him.

"So they are..." the old man had noted, his voice fey and soft. "So they are."

"Why?" the boy had added after a beat. "Are these no good?" He'd gestured to the glasses he'd picked up.

"Are you saying my life's work is of no worth, Matou Shinji?"

"No, that's not—" And then the boy's jaw clicked shut. "Wait. How did you know my name?"

"...I _listen_ , lad."

Old Man Corbenic had glanced over at where Natsumi and Amber were admiring the pocketwatch he'd been looking at earlier. This had been one of the man's other creations, which had been made for a customer, but apparently, had gone unclaimed.

"Ah."

"And since I listen, and you spent a fair bit at my humble shop, perhaps you would like to buy the little trifle your friends are examining? A pretty bauble can sometimes get you out of trouble with a girl – or into some trouble, if that's your fancy."

Corbenic had _smiled_ then, somewhat unpleasantly.

"...how much? I don't have enough for the both of them," the boy admitted, thinking perhaps the man might be sympathetic to a declaration of poverty. "I'm not very rich you see."

"And yet you came to Horizont Alley and bought Henderson's work?" the old man had questioned, seeming almost offended. "Curious choice"

"...it is what it is."

"So it is, when young men seek to impress young women," Corbenic nodded sagely. "Perhaps...a slight discount. Unthinkable I know, but let's say – fifteen thousand for both items, since you remind me of my old colleague. I won't be going any lower than that, so don't waste my time, or yours, trying to bargain."

Shinji had given it a moment's thought, but only a moment, as the choice was rather obvious.

"…very well."

It would leave him with just over 2000 Galleons, out of what had been tens of thousands, but he supposed one couldn't put a price tag on someone's happiness.

The man, after he'd passed along an authorization form, had set about explaining how the items worked, with the pocketwatch being straightforward enough. The glasses, however, had a fairly complex control scheme, and four distinct modes.

Privacy Mode, in which the only things it showed are a "!" if someone has something urgent to say or do, a "?" if someone had information to offer or clues for what one was working on, or a "..." if they were not finished with a thought.

"Good if you're the awkward type and just want a hint, here an' there," the man had explained.

Then there was passive mode, which apparently read people's surface level thoughts and – for the wearer of the glasses – made them above people's heads like word bubbles, allowing one to see what others were thinking, without delving too deeply or any risk of detection.

Active mode, of course, probed people more deeply, with the effect being improved the close one was – and especially if one was looking into another's eyes, which the man had noted could be quite useful for negotiations or other important conversations.

And then there was Interrogation Mode, which was essentially an enhancement of active mode intended to break through occlumency barriers and retrieve information in as much depth and detail as possible, though one would almost certainly be detected when using it, as this was very intrusive.

"And which mode did you want to set as default?"

"…passive, please."

Still, even those took some getting used to, with the visual clutter giving him a headache once he stepped out onto the street, despite the glasses not being fitted with corrective lenses. No, perhaps it was because they hadn't been fitted with corrective lenses in this case. Had they been so, Matou Shinji would have understood why he had a headache, but as it was...

 _'People's thoughts...I can see them...'_

The information wasn't flooding into his mind, thankfully, just onto the inside of his glasses (which would have caused him some anxiety, save that the crafter had explained that only the wearer could see the information on them, via a magical effect similar to that evoked by the Hand of Glory), but it was still overwhelming. People's thoughts - even their surface thoughts - were so incredibly rich, complex, and contradictory - often at odds with what they said or did. It changed how he saw them, though not the point of eroding his trust, since he wasn't a very trusting person to begin with.

And then...

"What's so fascinating about everyone else, that you won't spare a glance for us?" Amber chided, with Shinji turning, despite himself, towards her, finding himself feeling a frisson of trepidation at what he might see.

...only, as he looked upon her - and Natsumi - the glasses remained blank.

 _'Huh?'_

...was something wrong with his glasses? No, that wasn't it, since when he turned, he could see the thoughts of others pop up on them, but why did they show nothing for Amber and Natsumi?

"Something on your mind?" Amber questioned

"It's just..." the boy trailed off, feeling uneasy for some reason. "You heard the shopkeeper talk about what these glasses do, right?"

"Yes, I heard," Amber noted, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Well...they don't work."

"Ehhh?" Natsumi interjected, blinking. "Even though you paid fifteen thousand galleons for them and that pocketwatch? You should get a refund, Matou-kun!" The chestnut-haired girl seemed unusually emphatic about this, but then, maybe that was to be expected from the daughter of a prominent lawyer.

"Err, that is, they work on other people," the boy had temporized. "Just not on you two."

"...heh," Amber had noted with a smirk, realizing what was going on. "Haven't you learned by now that girls are supposed to be mysterious and hard to read?"

"Urk. Well..." Shinji had trailed off, unable to think of a good response. "...it works on other girls though." The boy had shaken his head then. "But why not you two...?"

"Matou-kun, you're not the only one who studies Occlumency, you know." So Natsumi had commented wryly.

"...huh, but where...?" He'd had a book to work off of, not to mention help from Miyuki-senp...oh. "Senpai taught you how?"

"We practice together," Natsumi had admitted. "But it was Sokaris who taught me how."

 _'Sokaris?_ ' But why would she know how...? The boy's expression had shifted to a frown. Well, given that the Ravenclaw had stared down his monstrous form without flinching, there had to be a trick to it, he supposed. "What else...ah, what else did she teach you?"

"Just a few things here and there," Natsumi had replied with a sly smile. "Probably nothing you don't already know, from all those books of yours."

"Tell me?"

"…only if you tell me what's in those books of yours," Natsumi had countered.

"…fine."

* * *

Back in the present, he still couldn't believe what he'd heard from the chestnut-haired girl. He'd had to tell her about soul magic, curses, and all manner of other things, but learning about some of the calculations she was learning to craft, the alchemical formulas, and some of the mind abilities…

' _She said…Sokaris was teaching her a method to think_ faster _? But that's…'_

Could that be…was that… _thought acceleration_?

But that…that wasn't possible.

 _Thought Acceleration,_ after all, was the exclusive province of the Alchemists of Atlas.

Did that mean…?

' _Could it be…?'_

And if it was so…

' _What is she doing at Hogwarts?'_


	33. First Night at Shinji's

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 32.** _First Night at Shinji's_

Despite how comfortable the bed in his new cottage was, how tasty the dinner, or how luxurious his surroundings, Matou Shinji did not rest well that night. Oh, it wasn't because he had trouble falling asleep in unfamiliar surroundings (as his daily naptime in Binns' classes could attest), or because he wasn't sufficiently tired (as he surely was that, after all the running around he'd been made to do on what was ostensibly a holiday). It wasn't even because he was rather anxious about the fact that someone at Hogwarts was probably more than she seemed (even if he was).

It was because through the night, Rumpy, his new house-elf, which his previous owner had dressed in the remains of an old stuffed bear, kept standing by his bedside, _staring_ at him with its glistening, bulbous eyes.

"D-did you do this with your last Master?" he asked, understandably disturbed how every time he woke up, the elf was there, looming over his bed like a monster of yore.

"Old Master is liking Rumpy by her side. Rumpy be driving away nightmares, old Master be saying."

Shinji wondered how that was even possible when a moving, talking plushie with a wrinkled house-elf face was the very _stuff_ of nightmares, but perhaps those who grew up in magical Britain had different standards for what to be horrified of?

'… _at this rate, I'm going to go back into Exton Hall.'_

"Would Master be liking a lullaby?" the house-elf asked, in a voice like stones rubbing against one another.

"T-that's ok," Shinji managed, swallowing. "Um. Go to the basement. Please. Don't come back until I wake up."

The house elf bowed and disappeared with a _pop,_ leaving the boy alone in his bedroom, and rather out of sorts as he contemplated the command he'd given and groaned.

' _...bloody hell. It's going to be back again once I wake up, isn't it?'_

Not for the first time that night, the boy gave some serious thought to the idea of just going back to Exton Hall, where at least, when he woke up, he could be sure he wasn't in a nightmare.

' _But its already past midnight. I can't bother them now.'_

And besides which, Exton Hall, unlike this dwelling, was not registered as a magical residence, nor one with a house elf, so any display of the arts under its walls would likely have the Ministry running, screaming about violations of the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Sorcery.

So, the boy tried his best to go back to sleep, with his thoughts drifting as he did to what was going on at Hogwarts. What were the professors doing over the long holiday, he wondered? What about the few students who had not gone home (or if not home, had not left the premises)? And of course, what other secrets did the ancient castle hold?

Hogwarts was about a thousand years old, after all, and like any other place that had been around that long, he imagined that its walls hid any number of dark histories.

' _Yes, we found the Chamber of Secrets, but that can't be all that is down there…'_

Where there was one hidden chamber deep under the school, not on any map, there were surely others.

Rooms, passages, secret dungeons and nests of foul and dangerous creatures.

Speaking of which…

' _I wonder if the Black Lake is connected to some other body of water, magically or otherwise,'_ he mused, reflecting on the fact that there was a giant squid living there – a creature which should not be able to survive at such shallow depths, or in fresh water. Of course, it could be a phantasmal beast of some kind, but that only raised the question of how it had gotten to the lake in the first place, as he couldn't remember there being a giant squid colony in the lake's murky depths. _'Which means there's either something going on with that lake, or that the squid is not a squid…'_

It occurred to the boy that maybe the squid was in reality, an Animagus who had had spent so long in animal form that he or she had forgotten what it was like to be human – or perhaps had made him or herself forget.

' _Though if that were so, wouldn't the Headmaster know about it?"_

Or would he?

Dumbledore hadn't seemed to know about the Chamber of Secrets, after all, and he supposed that it was unfair to expect any one man to have all the answers, even if that one man was nominally in charge of the institution and its grounds, and as such, was ultimately responsible for the things that happened on the campus.

' _Speaking of which…what's on the third floor, in the corridor to the right-hand side?'_

Not for the first time, he reflected that it was…odd that the Headmaster hadn't given a reason for the place being "out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." It was as if he was tacitly challenging anyone willing to brave the possibility of a very painful death to uncover the mystery of what was there.

' _The question is – a challenge…or a trap?'_

Phelan, of course, thought it was a challenge – for any adventurers confident in their skills, with the unspoken promise of some great treasure waiting at the end, as was only natural after facing mortal peril.

Shinji, mostly to be contrary, argued otherwise: that the so-called challenge was nothing but a way to get serious troublemakers to incriminate themselves, and that any great treasure would likely be trapped somehow, left only as bait for the unwary – who, in the moment of their triumph, would find themselves crushed.

…perhaps even literally, if his fears about a trap featuring a giant boulder was anything close to reality.

' _I wonder…'_ he mused, as his breathing slowed, and his mind began to sink deep into the ocean of the unconscious. _'If Sokaris would know…'_

* * *

That night, Matou Shinji found himself dreaming – though this time, for once, the dream didn't turn into a nightmare.

He wasn't running from something, wasn't frantically trying to get somewhere he could not while _senpai_ or someone else he…cared about died in front of him, hadn't just killed the wrong person in his quest for vengeance or any number of other things.

In the dream, he'd just been walking beside someone, through trails – streets – fields that were familiar yet strange, talking about his first year at Hogwarts, and how different it had been from his expectations.

The people he'd met.

The events he'd participated in.

The choices he'd made.

The other smiled slightly, seemingly amused by his overly dramatic recounting of the masquerade and the various challenges laid down by Quirrell, though she – and it was a _she_ – stopped suddenly, turning her head as something caught her eye.

Glancing in the same direction he had, he saw what had caught her attention, a…

…shooting star streaking over the great red bridge that connected two very different sections of a sleepy city.

…series of fireworks illuminating the largest tree he'd ever seen, and the city that had grown around it, in a place outside of time.

…white horse taking flight from a castle on a mountain.

…deer streaking past them, into the thickly forested grounds, spooked by something… _else_.

A dizzying array of images filled his mind, all of them contradictory, and when he looked back, the person who he was talking with was gone, replaced by a Sialim Sokaris dressed all in white, her purple hair unbound and draped over her left shoulder – and a raven perched on her right.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked tonelessly, her eyes red as the shadowed moon during an eclipse.

He looked away, unable to answer, and found himself standing in a corridor at Hogwarts.

' _What? Why?'_

He spun around, trying to figure out where in the castle he was, only to see a version of _himself_ wreathed in darkness.

'… _I know this form…'_

He'd become it once that he could remember, yet this was his first time seeing it from the outside.

A figure of shadow and flame, a demon of vengeance and rage whose eyes blazed red, with a cloak of corrupter prana billowing like black smoke behind him.

And from _him_ , Granger fled, sheer terror on her face as merely human muscles did their best to escape the beast she had awakened, leaving a trail of…fluid in her wake as feet pounded against stone and her heart thudded in her chest far faster than was healthy.

But the monster did not chase the girl, merely turning to look at him.

"…what…why…?" Shinji asked this…this alter-ego, as the world dissolved around him, becoming a scorched clearing in the Forbidden Forest, with great gouges in the ground as if something had melted the earth, trees knocked to the ground and torn in twain as if by the hand of a giant, and scattered limbs and parts of spiders as large as horses littering the ground.

The air smelled of fire, of roasted hair and of sickly sweet death.

Of rage, unbound and unleashed.

 _His_ rage.

And standing calmly in the center of everything, the moon-drenched figure of Sialim Sokaris, clad in a dress so dark it might as well be black, with a green-gold vial in her left hand.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I was never away," the girl spoke enigmatically, with the world shifting once more until he found _himself_ as the demon, standing in Ravenclaw Tower, with Sokaris standing between him and the fallen form of Hermione Granger.

' _This, I…I remember this…but…'_

"Why am _I_ here?"

"You have always been here," Sokaris responded, watching pitilessly as the darkness surrounding him fell away, and slowly he returned to just being himself. "At the crossroads. In the space between decisions."

"Huh?"

Before he could ask more though, the boy found himself stirring once more, opening his eyes to find the house-elf looming over his bed.

Despite himself, Matou Shinji _screamed._

* * *

After that admittedly strange dream – and the rude awakening that had followed – the boy had not tried to go back to sleep, though he _had_ told the house elf to only greet him once he was outside his bedroom, as he wasn't sure that his heart could take another scare.

' _But if I'm not sleeping, then what…?'_

He supposed he could read and work on Occlumency for a while, since his acquisition of the…glasses in Horizont Alley had reminded him of just how useful the ability to shield his mind from intrusion could be.

And so, he did, for a time, but as an eleven-year-old boy, there was only so long he could sit in one place practicing something that was all in his mind. Still, it had been a way to while away a few hours, for when he'd finished, the sun had risen, with the boy wondering what to do next?

'… _I have nothing planned for today, do I?'_

Indeed, after days and days of being dragged around Britain, Matou Shinji found himself with one of those rarest of things – free time – and a completely lack of things to fill it with. He – like nature – abhorred a vacuum, as the prospect of letting the time go to waste utterly horrified him.

There was just too much to be done, too much to study and catch up on if he ever wanted to one day be able to walk by Senpai's side. Really, even remaining friends and peers with Natsumi and Amber was demanding enough in itself, given that they were quickly pulling away from him, in terms of their respective capabilities.

Both Amber and Natsumi had demonstrated at least competency in occlumency, and if Natsumi truly did learn Thought Acceleration, well…

' _No. I refuse to be left behind.'_

That said…it figured that after spending thousands of galleons on mind-reading glasses, they didn't work on the people he'd like to know the most about. Girls _were_ a mystery, and he'd sought to demystify them just a bit, but…apparently he'd been overly hasty.

Or presumptuous.

Or something.

The thing was, he honestly didn't really care about most people, what they thought, or who they were. He just wanted to better understand his friends, who, for all their affection for him, seemed...

...well, alien was probably the best word he had to describe what he thought their thought processes must be, though that was really such an impolite way to put it.

' _I guess, to learn more about them, I'll have to spend time with them, eh? No shortcuts for something like that.'_

But he needed to work on his skills too, and how could he both do that _and_ better get to know the people around him?

The boy sighed, and then groaned as the obvious hit him.

They could all work on some skill together.

Dueling maybe.

The practice equipment the Noels had ordered for him should be ready by now, and perhaps it would be a good opportunity to see if he could hide his thoughts? Though they probably didn't know Legilimency, which could be a—

 _'I'll just lend them my glasses. What could go wrong?'_

On second thought, dueling either Amber or Phlean with a blade, when he'd never even really held one, would be folly enough _without_ them being able to read his mind and predict every move he was about to make.

Such a thing would only result in great pain, if they took him at all seriously.

Pain for him, that was.

And whatever else Matou Shinji _was_ , he did not consider himself a masochist.

 _'They've both already trained in this kind of thing for years, and I...well, haven't. We should do something where we're probably more even in skill. Something none of us are that familiar with...'_

Something like...

' _Magical dueling.'_

Yes…that was it.

Since his new cottage was registered as a magical residence with the Ministry, with a house elf on the premises explaining away any odd magical use detected by the Trace, and there was an area in the basement that would be useful for dueling, he wouldn't get into trouble, and he rather thought the Noel twins would enjoy.

And so, having decided on something, he set down his books, got up and opened his bedroom door, only to yelp and fall flat on his arse in a rather undignified fashion when he saw his house-elf Rumpy, standing there.

'… _this whole thing is going to take some getting used to.'_

* * *

The session itself proved to be good fun, with the trio warming up with some basic spells like the disarming charm ( _Expelliarmus_ ), the Knockback Jinx ( _Flipendo_ ), and the Tickling Charm ( _Rictusempra_ ) before sparring against one another in a series of bouts to see who was fastest with a wand and had the best reflexes, with the first to lose their weapon or otherwise be incapacitated considered to have lost.

Since none of them could use a shield charm, or knew any other way of blocking spells, these tended to go quite quickly, with Amber coming out on top, and her twin…

"…we already know you're fast, sister," Phelan grumbled after the conclusion of the bouts, showing that he was the slowest of the three. "But that's because you use a rapier. Speed and precision are key to wielding that weapon." He'd glanced at Shinji. "I'm more surprised _you_ beat me, Matou, with as much time as you spend reading. You even need to wear glasses now!"

"…maybe I just don't have bad habits to unlearn?" Shinji suggested. "You keep trying to slash with your wand, like it was a sword or something."

Phelan shrugged.

"True. I'm used to a backsword, and there's a lot more cutting there than thrusting with that," the earl's son admitted. "It's a more practical weapon than a rapier, though. Even Godfrey says so!"

Amber just rubbed her temples as she heard the reference hat her brother made, her lips curving into a distinct frown.

"…first, brother of mine, the _Treatise Upon the Useful Science of Defense_ was written back in 1747," she chided, "though I _am_ surprised you remember anything from that old book."

"Hey, I read too," Phelan sputtered. "Maybe not as much as Matou over here, but if it's interesting, I _do_ pick up books, you know. And not just to throw at people!"

"…fair enough," Amber conceded. "Still, we're not learning to fight in magical formations, we're learning to duel, so let's focus on how to make you a better magical duelist. We both know that a rapier is better for duels anyway."

"…well yes, hence the rapier was 'the Call of Honour, the Back-Sword the Call of Duty,'" Phelan quoted, shaking his head. "I'll have to ask Quirrell for a better selection of spells. Or just use my sword after downing Mopsus."

"I don't think your sword can deflect spells, brother," Amber quipped, with her brother looking particularly petulant at her comment.

"Well, we can't _all_ have goblin-silver weapons," he grumbled, but nodded. "Fair point though. As of right now, you're the best duelist of the three of us."

"Glad you see things my way," the girl said with some satisfaction.

"…still, I wonder if those skills would help you if you were up against more than one of us at a time," the earl's son murmured slyly.

"…what was that, brother?"

"Oh, let's say that Matou and I worked together to try and take you down," Phlean spoke, spinning a scenario. "Do you think you could take both of us down before one of us got you?"

For the first time, Amber seemed less than certain.

"That…I'm not so sure about," she admitted.

"Shall we put it to the test then? Let's say, with a friendly wager?" the earl's son suggested. "Maybe with that fancy rapier of yours on the line."

"…nice try, but you don't have anything I'd want in return," Amber replied, sticking out her tongue at her brother.

Shinji was struck by the childishness of her behavior, which he didn't think he'd ever seen before, yet in his eyes, made her all the more charming.

"Let's just do it for fun then," Shinji interjected. "Take turns being the one against the two."

"Nothing on the line?" Phelan inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"How about this – if none of us win as the one against the two, or all of us win, nothing happens. If only one of us wins, then we each owe the winner a favor."

"And if two win and one loses?" Amber questioned.

"…then the one is at the mercy of the two and has to do whatever they say for a day?" Shinji suggested, with both Amber and Phelan seeming to pause at that, before nodding.

"Fine, I accept your terms, Matou," Amber quipped sassily. "And you, brother?"

"…I just hope you're ready to do whatever we want for a day, sis, heheh…" Phelan chuckled.

They drew lots to see who would go first, and order decided, began.

…to their mild chagrin, none of them managed to win against two-to-one odds.

Shinji had evaded both of them for a while, but had eventually been taken out by Phelan, while he was trying to pay attention to Amber, who he couldn't read.

Phelan had evaded his sister's spells, but had been hit by Shinji's quite quickly.

And Amber had been forced to turn away from Phelan when Shinji had come _charging_ at her, only to wrap her in a hug – with Phelan blasting both of them with the Tickling Charm for his trouble.

"Fine, so none of us won," the earl's son conceded. "Now what?"

"Now…I hand one of you my glasses, and we see if things change," Shinji noted with a smirk.

"Ah," Amber noted.

"Wait, why glasses?" Phelan muttered. "Wouldn't that just make it harder for whichever of us got them, since none of us need them?"

"Oh, I think you'll be surprised…" the boy said, explaining that the glasses allowed him to take a look at surface level thoughts, so it gave whoever was wearing them a slight advantage when dueling. "As for the other thing, they're not prescription lenses."

"Ha! I knew you couldn't really be a better duelist than me!" the earl's son crowed, with Shinji taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Give 'em here and let's see we do with a new 2 on 1."

Shinji – reluctantly – did so, though even with this newfound advantage, Phelan lost once more.

"…you sure these are working?" he grumbled. "Couldn't see anything from my sister. And you…only sometimes."

Amber and Shinji shared a wry glance.

"Yeah, about that," Amber spoke up. "We both practice Occlumency."

"Occlu-what?"

"How to protect your mind from outside intrusion," the girl quipped, with Phelan's expression going rather sour.

"…well, that's hardly an advantage then," the earl's son muttered. "Still, I don't think even those would be enough to help you win against the both of us, sister."

"Shall we bet on that?" Amber suggested, mirth dancing in her eyes as she took the glasses from her brother.

"No. Just for fun is fine," Phelan said, waving her off. "Matou, shall we plot something?"

"Err, I guess?" the Japanese boy answered, following the other as he waved for him to follow. "You have a plan?"

Two versus one, Matou Shinji thought to himself, would normally be quite the advantage for the two. Except now that he was lending Amber his special glasses, having a partner who could not use Occlumency could instead be something of a liability.

"I'm not sure having a plan could work if she could just pluck it from my mind," Phelan admitted, "but your glasses don't let someone do that, right?"

Shinji hesitated for a moment, something that the earl's son didn't miss.

"…I see," Phelan noted, his voice somewhat colder. "That complicates things."

"I do know that it needs line of sight though, so...I'm sure we can still come up with something?" Shinji offered, hoping to defuse his friend's ire.

"Well, we can try," the noble boy said, with the two hashing out ideas.

In the end though, none of their plans ended up being what worked, even if Shinji being Phelan's "human shield" to keep Amber from seeing him and reading his mind had shown some promise at first. Amber was still, unfortunately, faster than Shinji, and disarmed him before he could react.

After _that_ though, Phelan had fired a knockback spell, but not at Amber.

Instead, he'd blasted Shinji in the back, Japanese boy into his Amber's arms, with the sheer momentum of the flying body knocking her to the ground, with her wand falling out of her hand in shock. Shinji and Amber had looked at each other, green eyes meeting grey as their hearts beat faster – and then Phelan blasted both of them with Tickling Charms.

"See?" Phelan asked, after he cancelled the spell, with Amber and Shinji standing somewhat apart, not looking at each other. "It doesn't matter if you have the glasses, sis. You can't beat two of us."

"That…that wasn't teamwork. You sacrificed Matou!" Amber protested. "After using him as a human shield."

"We still won," the earl's son commented. "And victory is everything." He shook his head. "I should probably practice that Occlu-whatsits too though, since we can't have you two winning against me that easily."

"It probably wouldn't be a terrible idea," Shinji agreed. "I need more practice in it myself." He hesitated…but this time, not all that long. "I could show you the basics?"

"Would you? That'd be right decent of you."

"Heh…nice to see you two getting along," Amber quipped. "I was expecting there to be a bit more fuss, after you told him that this cottage used to belong to Tonks."

"Wait, this used to be where _Miss Tonks lived?!"_ Phelan almost screeched, his hands reaching out to grab Matou's lapel and shake him about. "Y-you're kidding!"

"…you didn't tell him," Amber noted, shaking her head.

"...sorry?"

"You…you…you!" Phelan sputtered, not able to come up with anything close to coherent. "How did you even…a house isn't cheap, you know."

"Quirrell gave me some basilisk skin and an invisibility cloak," the boy responded, just wanting the shaking to stop. "I sold them, had enough for the house."

Phelan looked like he was about to argue again, but—

"You're both welcome to visit anytime. I'll let my house elf know!" Shinji pre-empted, as the earl's son finally let go.

"You would do that?" Phelan said hopefully.

"Of course," the Japanese boy replied. "Why don't we keep practicing this stuff for the next few days. I'll have the house warming say, the day before the 30th?"

"And will you be sleeping here or at Exton Hall?" Amber asked quietly.

"…I guess I wouldn't mind spending another night at Exton Hall," Shinji answered shyly, not meeting her eyes. "The, uh, the company isn't bad."

"But this was Tonks' house," Phelan protested. "And you even have a house elf at your beck and call. What more could you want?"

"What more indeed?" Shinji sighed. "Want to meet the elf?"

"Ah, yes!" the earl's son answered at once. "I've read all about the fair folk you know, seen how they are in Tolkien's work and all. So sure, show me this elf!"

Shinji cracked a smile, a very small one.

"Alright then," he conceded, smirking just a hint. "Rumpy!"

And when the plushie-wearing house elf appeared before them, with the shock of its appearance making Phelan fall on his arse with an undignified cross between a cross and a scream, he even managed not to laugh.

Much.


	34. Lords of Swinverrucas, part 1

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 33.** _Lords of Swinverrucas, part 1_

When Professor McGonagall called her name, she walked out of the antechamber into the Great Hall, trying not to show how intimidated she was to take her first true steps into the world of magic. Many had already been called before her, with her having no sense of what had transpired, only that at irregular intervals, there was a shout of **GRYFFINDOR, RAVENCLAW** , **HUFFLEPUFF** , or **SLYTHERIN**.

' _There weren't any screams of pain or bestial roars, so I probably don't have to wrestle a troll,'_ she thought with some relief. Trolls, from what Draco mentioned, smelled rather rank after all, and while the copper-haired girl was capable of enduring many things, terrible body odor was not one of them.

(Which, now that she thought about it, might be another reason she didn't like most boys, given how sweaty and dirty they usually were.)

Sokaris had said that the Sorting Ritual would probably involve a magical artifact of some kind, citing the example of Ilvermorny, so, deferring to the purple-haired girl's wisdom, she looked around, finding a ragged hat sitting on a chair.

' _I guess that's it…the item that will determine my destiny.'_

But how? Would it simply choose for her once she sat down or sat it on her head?

Would it ask her odd bits of trivia to make her prove her worth?

Would it…give her a personality test of some kind?

She shuddered at the last possibility, given that such a thing would probably dig into her past and reveal the myriad truths about who and what she really was – hopefully not to everyone assembled.

Still, there was no helping it, so she walked over to the chair, as bidden, sat down, and allowed a teacher to plop the Hat upon her head, whereupon a voice asked her a very simple question…

" _ **What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"**_

* * *

There was a strange silence as the group collectively blinked, some of them glancing at one another as if wondering whether this was a serious question, with others closing their eyes and lowering their faces, as if trying to recall what little they knew about swallows (which was generally very little, since they weren't magical creatures).

"I think I speak for everyone when I ask how this is supposed to be a 'simple question'?" Phelan demanded, the striped face paint he was wearing, and the great lion's mane around his face making him look particularly fierce. "How is anyone supposed to know such a thing, anyway?"

"…well, even if she didn't know it, Sokaris could probably figure out how fast it flew, if she knew how heavy it was and how long its wings were," Natsumi mused aloud, the racoon ears on her head wriggling a bit as she dipped her head. Marten, her pet pig, squirmed a bit from his place on her lap, perhaps because he found his knarl (hedgehog) costume uncomfortably hot. Or perhaps because he didn't enjoy the smell of his mistress' half-eaten plate of maple-bacon waffles. "But we'd also have to know how often it beat its wings..."

"That would probably depend on what _kind_ of swallow it is," a thoughtful Nigel Wroxton, dressed all in a robe of black feathers noted as he looked up, the raven on his shoulder squawking in agreement. "Since there are about 74 kinds around the world."

"What…seventy-four?" Pansy echoed, from where she was curled up in a chair, the cat ears peeking out from her dark hair stiffening in surprise. "Why…no, besides why, _how_ do you even know that?"

"…you'd be surprised how much trivia you remember when you spend most of a year in the hospital with nothing to do but read," the older Ravenclaw said self-deprecatingly. "Though, it's not as if I'm good for much else, even now that I'm back."

"Oh, Nigel…" Cho, who was sitting beside him, absently stroking his…feathers, sighed, squeezing his shoulder in a way that was supposed to be comforting. Given that she was dressed in robes of fiery red, with a headpiece that looked like the crest of a phoenix, it almost seemed instead that the poor raven was about to be swallowed up by flames. "That's not true. You're…you make people happy?"

"You don't seem very confident about that, Cho," Nigel pointed out, making the Chinese girl blush.

"Well, it made _me_ happy that you invited me, but if you're going to be so sour all night, maybe I shouldn't ha…"

"I'm assuming it's probably a barn swallow?" Amber spoke up, cutting Cho off as she stood, the sailor-style Japanese school uniform she wore seeming quite at odds with the more elaborate costumes the others were wearing. When Shinji'd asked what she was supposed to be, Amber had smirked and said "a _tsukumogami_ of a ship", pointing to the metallic antennae-like things sticking out of her hair and the rather technical looking rigging she'd made for herself. Shinji had protested, saying that ships probably didn't look like cute girls, though in truth he had no idea what a _tsukumogami_ was even supposed to look like – and his comment had backfired, since he grew embarrassed as Amber had thanked him for calling her cute.

"Are you asking me?" the resident storyteller questioned, with the blonde's eyes twinkling with amusement in the firelight, much like the scales of the dragon-hide garments she wore. "Or are you asking the Sorting Hat?"

"…the Hat," Amber replied, sitting down again, somewhat disgruntled.

* * *

'… _well, that would depend on what kind of swallow, wouldn't it?'_ Iris Potter asked wryly, keeping her face perfectly expressionless. _'You can't just expect me to know how to answer otherwise, can you?'_

' _I see,'_ the Hat's voice rang in her mind. _'Asking for details are you? I suppose you're not likely to be a Gryffindor, then, since you look before you leap.'_

' _Fair enough. I'd rather be cautious and alive than bold and dead anytime,'_ Iriscommented, her curls shaking as she tossed her head. _'Any other questions?'_

' _Certainly,'_ the Sorting Hat affirmed. _'Suppose you see a runaway train – the Hogwarts Express – let's call it – hurtling towards a car full of potions bound for St. Mungo's. You are standing next to a lever that controls a switch. If you pull the lever, the trolley will be redirected to a side track, and the train will not collide with the car full of potions. Before you choose, note that you can also see a woman collapsed on that side track, with her young daughter crouched over her, shouting and trying to pull her away from the track. What do you do?'_

* * *

"I…no, you can't pull it!" Phelan declared, recoiling from the very notion of deliberately acting to hurt someone. "I…what kind of person is Iris going to become if she just kills two people like that?! Wh-who would even choose to pull the lever in a situation like this?"

"I would," Amber spoke up, with her twin looking at her incredulously.

"Why in God's green earth—"

"Because it's the Hogwarts Express," the copper-haired girl bit off, shaking her head. "I don't like the choice any more than you do, but if a train full of students hits a railway car loaded with potions, it's going to derail, and you're going to have more than just two deaths on your hands."

"You can't possibly be certain of that, _sister_!" the earl's son thundered, his face going red. "It's quite possible that nothing will happen except the potions being ruined, and who cares about a bunch of potions when lives are at stake—"

"—I should think the patients at St. Mungo's would care," Cho replied sharply, glancing worriedly over at Nigel, whose expression had soured at the question, as if remembering something unpleasant. "Without those potions, many of them will die."

Phelan looked like he wanted to say something very rude, but instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands balling into fists as he took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "Fine, why don't we ask… _will_ the train derail?" he asked, his voice quieter than anyone had heard him speak before. "And are the potions something that could save people's lives?"

"You don't know that," Selina supplied, watching as the earl's son _winced_.

"But—"

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you more, because in that situation, you wouldn't know," the bespectacled blonde continued, not without sympathy. "All you know is that if you pull the lever, one – maybe two – people will die. If you don't, the train will hit the railway car. No more, no less."

"Ugh…"

"Look, Phelan, we're not standing at the lever making that choice," Ernie Macmillan spoke up, the feathers of his barn owl costume seeming a bit ruffled as he shook his head. "It's just part of a game, you know. A what if from Iris' point of view? It's not as if what we choose here reflects what we would actually do in that situation."

"Isn't it, though?" the earl's son questioned. "If you think something enough, it might come true."

"If that were so, Nigel would have gotten well far sooner," Cho muttered under her breath, with her companion blinking.

"You know, let's not pick on him," Neville spoke up, choosing to defend his fellow Gryffindor. "It's not wrong to not want to kill people. Right, Hannah?" he asked, turning to the girl who had come with him.

"Right," the Hufflepuff girl said stolidly. "Don't you agree, Matou?"

Shinji, however, shook his head.

"It might not be wrong, but for something like this…the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," the Japanese boy argued, the crown of branches and cloak of vines he wore identifying him as a _kodama_ , one of the tree spirits of Japan. "Just because you don't see others being hurt because of what you do doesn't mean they won't be."

"That doesn't mean you can use a what-if as an excuse to hurt the people in front of you!" Phelan shot back. "You heard the choice. If you pull the lever, two people will die. We don't know more than that. Based on that, I can't in good conscience pull the lever."

"I can," Nigel said quietly, breaking the silence that followed in the wake of Phelan's outburst. "Because more people will be saved."

"But that's not what we're told," Ronald Weasley interjected, weighing in on Phelan's side. Seeing him bluster, Selina had to suppress a smile, if only because he was dressed like a big yellow bird. A Golden Snidget, he'd explained when asked, even if seeing his costume – made by Fred and George, no less! – had brought a rather different character to her mind. "We just know that if we pull the level, at least one person will die. But even if the little girl doesn't, wouldn't that make her an orphan? _Just like Iris?_ " He shook his head. "Are you saying that _knowing_ someone will die means less than people _maybe_ being hurt?"

"It's _not_ a maybe," Nigel – whose life had depended on the availability of certain potions last year – ground out. "People will be hurt."

"She didn't say that."

"She doesn't have to!" the usually mild-mannered Ravenclaw exploded, surging to his feet, his face red with frustration. "When will you accept that the world is bigger than what you can see?"

"It's not wrong to not want to be a _monster_ who kills people because it _might_ help others," Ron spat, now on his feet as well. "Listen to yourselves, all of you…Nigel, would you pull the lever if it was _Cho_ on the track?"

"…w-well, no, but…"

"And Matou, what about if it was…your sis—"

"Yes, _definitely_."

The Japanese boy's reply, and the cold little smile that accompanied it, stopped Ron cold, with the redhead swallowing.

"What. Y-you would…your own _sister…"_ Ron whispered, shaken by the unexpected comment. "How can you—"

"Don't assume everyone's circumstances are the same as yours," Shinji stated, his eyes hard. "It's obvious not everyone is going to agree, so can we just vote on this?"

"…fine," Phelan grumbled, though now he looked rather worried as he looked between Shinji and his sister. "I'm…I'm done talking about this, if none of you are going to listen. Let's just vote and move on."

* * *

' _So you choose to sacrifice the mother and daughter for the sake of the greater good,'_ the Sorting Hat mused, reading the answer in her thoughts. _'Interesting…'_

'… _what would have happened if I'd chosen otherwise?'_ Iris wondered, her lips curving into a frown despite her best efforts. _'W-would more people have been hurt?'_

' _Who knows,'_ the Hat answered in a very unsatisfactory manner. _'In life, none of us have all the answers. Speaking of which, just a few more questions, if you will…'_

' _Fine…'_ Iris huffed. _'Ask what you will…'_

' _I will, then! Imagine that you, and the rest of the first years, are trapped in a hallway at Hogwarts with a rampaging troll. The door you came in through is barred. The only other exit is at the other end, past the troll. What will you do?'_

The copper-haired girl nearly groaned as she heard this one.

' _Well,'_ she thought, _'I guess I could—'_

* * *

"—lead the charge!" Phelan said with some animation. "It's one troll, it couldn't possibly kill all of us."

"Oh, it could and would, if you're all first years," Nymphadora Black chimed in languidly from where she lounged on a pile of cushions sampling a few choice bottles of Firewhiskey, with Rumpy dutifully refilling her tumbler every time she got close to emptying it. Having little to do on the day before New Years' Eve, she'd agreed to chaperone the "Matou Housewarming", so long as she was well plied with food and drink. Most wizarding families, after all, were not quite comfortable with children engaging in unsupervised revels, and as an Auror Trainee and the heiress of House Black, she was deemed someone trustworthy by society. That fact alone would drive her to drink, to say nothing of her…engagement to Draco Malfoy, and so she'd gladly taken advantage of the free liquor on offer.

(Which, to be fair, was mostly what bits of her personal stash she'd forgotten to take with her in the first place, so, as far as she was concerned, she had every right to it!)

In contrast to her name, her skin was moon-bright tonight, and her hair fanned out behind her like white-gold strands of liquid light. Such features – those of a Veela – together with a voluptuous figure barely contained in the toga she wore, were enough to draw the eyes of most males, even young boys, but then, she hadn't wanted to bother with a costume.

After all, she was a bit old to be dressing up as some magical creature, even if it was fun to see what the children of today got up to in their entertainments.

"If you were third years," she continued, "maybe you'd have a chance. But first years, just off the boat? You have none."

This stopped the earl's son cold, given that Miss Black's expertise in facing magical creatures was something he could not dismiss.

"…I stand corrected," he muttered, shaking his head.

"If we can't overwhelm it with numbers, then we need a plan a plan of some sort, yes?" Nigel brought up, with the others slowly nodding.

"We could always attack it anyway," Ron argued, his voice quiet, even if his fists were still clenched. "Try to distract it so someone can get to the other door. Get the others out."

"We _could_ ," Amber agreed, "but I don't think Iris is all that self-sacrificing." When the others looked at her, she went on to explain. "Don't you remember what we had Iris say to the others on the train? Something about how she wanted to see a world where people were always moving forward? We can't see anything if we're dead."

Phelan grunted.

"…that's…that's a point," he admitted with a sigh. "So what, you want to other people to fight for Iris? They think of her as the Girl-Who-Lived – the heroine who slew the Dark Lord when she was _one,_ and who has been who knows where since. Probably abroad honing her magic, or something."

Nevermind that in truth, Iris had been raised by her Muggle relatives, and kept ignorant about the world of magic and her place in it, with the strange incidents which happened to her – her hair always growing back to a certain length, finding herself on top of buildings, talking to snakes, making flowers bloom early – being dismissed as mere oddities.

That didn't matter.

What mattered was what people believed and expected.

"….no, they shouldn't fight _for_ Iris," Shinji said slowly. "They should fight alongside her. People want to be heroes, right? To fight alongside those they respect and admire? To make a difference? So give them a chance to be heroes. Ask the ones who can cast spells to attack the troll and lure it towards the locked door. Have Iris lead the other group – the helpless group – away from the troll, towards the door in the distance." He smiled slightly. "With any luck, if they can get the troll to charge – and jump out of the way – the door will be open, and they'll all be safe." And then his expression grew grim. "And if not, well…"

"That's…" Nigel made a pained expression. "I don't like it, but…"

"This is basically the trolley problem, but from a different point of view," Natsumi mused aloud, resting her chin on her open palm. "With us playing a character who, above all else, wants keep up the lie that she's a master of strange magic."

"…um, when you put it that way," Shinji mumbled, feeling slightly uncomfortable, since he'd been the one to lead the conversation in the past. "I just didn't want other people to feel bad, that's all. I mean, if they already think she's a hero, won't they be embarrassed if they realize she's just an orphan who knows next to nothing about…witchcraft?"

Pansy sniffed.

"Well, it's not like _I_ don't understand wanting to look good, but there are limits," the dark-haired Slytherin grumbled.

"Oh, and what are yours?" Luna Lovegood questioned from her perch on the arm of the couch, her silvery eyes gazing at Pansy with an intense sort of curiosity, with Pansy being taken aback by the direct question. Her concession to the party's theme had been an odd hat with a Snallygaster – a bird-reptile hybrid – wound around it.

The others – Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs, or children yet to come to Hogwarts (with the exception of Selina, who had effectively been elevated to the leadership of the Slytherin first years when she'd cowed Malfoy) – all looked at her as well, waiting to see how she'd respond.

"Letting your pride and ambition hurt people unnecessarily," she answered, looking away. "I mean, you can't keep from hurting people. That's just how life is. Gryffindors like to play hero. Ravenclaws like to have all the answers. Hufflepuffs…" she paused. "Actually, I don't know that much about how Hufflepuffs think, except that most of you think friendship is magic or something."

"Hey!" Ernie protested, before looking at Natsumi and Shinji, a bit sheepishly. "I mean, friends are great, but magic is magic, you know?"

"Heh, if you say so, Macmillan," Pansy noted, with a wry twist of her lips. "But Slytherins know we don't have all the answers, and that we aren't heroes. We're just people, trying to be more tomorrow than we are today." She shook her head. "If you ever let yourself forget that deep down, you're just trying to turn a lie into truth, you..."

"—you become like Malfoy?" Ron suggested, happy to take a dig at the notorious – and thankfully absent – fallen Slytherin.

"…I…yes," Pansy conceded, shooting the Weasley boy an amused _look_. "You heard what happened to him, then?"

"Why he always bows his head to 'Lady Selina' and always says yes to whatever she says, no matter how outrageous?" Ron questioned, with Pansy nodding. "Yeah. Not sure why though. Does he fancy her or something?"

"Ha! No, that's not it," the dark-haired Slytherin murmured, lowering her voice to a faux-whisper. "You want to know?"

"…well, yeah."

"He lost a bet."

"A bet?" Ron repeated. "What – why…?"

"He forgot that he was only human, and he lost everything. All that he has left now is his word. That's why he won't oppose her – if he goes back on what he promised, he'll have nothing left."

"Oh. It was like that," Luna murmured, tilting her head. "What an interesting House."

"Want to join us?" Pansy asked slyly. "You seem like you'd be full of surprises. Maybe you could be good at this 'joint storytelling' thing too, what with all the things you write in the _Quibbler_."

"So…are we going to keep talking about unrelated things, or are we finally going to get Iris a house?" Phelan interrupted, not really liking how the conversation kept going off onto weird tangents. "We either die heroically and end up in Gryffindor, or sacrifice other people and end up in Slytherin or Ravenclaw, right?"

" _Excuse_ you," Cho countered heatedly. "Just because we don't want to die horrible deaths doesn't mean we're want to hurt other people."

"It's just a hypothetical," Natsumi interjected, her fingers toying with a certain metal cylinder. "Let's not throw accusations at people here."

"Because you'd resemble one of those remarks?" Amber questioned, with the Japanese girl giving her a playful swat to the shoulder. "But fine, let's go with Matou's plan. It's not the worst one I've ever heard."

"Heh, such wholesome praise," Selina quipped, her lips curving into a smirk. "But yes, I agree that it's workable. Any objections?" She looked around, but no one spoke up. "Seeing none, let's move on."

* * *

' _I see…a bit of cleverness there, playing on people's trust and feelings, I see,'_ the Hat noted. _'I think I have an idea of where you might end up. Still, I'm not completely certain, so if you don't mind just one or two more questions to clear things up…?'_

' _Let's get this over with already,'_ Iris sighed inside her mind. _'Ask what you will.'_

' _As you will. Platypuses or platypi?_ "

* * *

" _ **Platypodes**_ _,"_ Nigel replied, rolling his eyes. "Fond of trick questions are you, Lady Selina?"

"No more than the average girl."

* * *

' _Then one last question._ _Imagine that you_ _are facing a dark wizard in an underground room, trying to keep him from stealing an artifact that will revive his fallen master.'_

* * *

"Finally!" Phelan stated, half a sigh, half a laugh. "Something which sounds like part of a proper adventure."

"But why would a first year be facing a dark wizard?" Pansy questioned. "Isn't that what Aurors are for? Or Dumbledore?"

"Well, the Hat didn't say _when_ we were facing the wizard."

"Hm. Go on then."

* * *

' _You have no wand, as your foe has taken it from you, after losing his own. Angered, he wishes to show you just what he is capable of, and so he sends a spell at you – a sickly green thing, like the Killing Curse. You try to dodge, but it follows you, looping back around. What do you do?'_

' _What does the room look like?'_ Iris asked, thinking quickly.

' _A large cavern deep beneath a fortress, held up by several support pillars. In the center of the room, there is a great mirror on a rotating platform, in which the artifact is hidden. He stands between you and the one exit of the room.'_

* * *

"I say we charge at him. Close in and rip the wand out of his hand," Phelan said. "If we took one wand away from him, we can take the other."

"With a Killing Curse tracking you?" Natsumi asked skeptically. "I somehow don't think that will work. Even if you took his wand, you'd still be hit."

"You have a better idea, Nats?"

"Well, we have to stop the spell from following us, or we're dead," the Japanese girl remarked. "Maybe we could duck behind a pillar at the very last moment, so it hits that instead of us?"

Nigel looked thoughtful.

"Ah, so use his arrogance against him. Taunt him into using his spell again and again, until he brings down the ceiling on both of you?" the Ravenclaw asked, raising an eyebrow. "I could see it working. Assuming he doesn't just decide to use something more direct and kill you."

"If he was going to do that, he would have," Amber commented, tilting her head. "What about that mirror? Can we use it somehow, do you think? Maybe get the curse to bounce off of it back towards him?"

"Risky," Natsumi noted. "If it really is a homing curse though, that wouldn't work. It would just come right back towards us after it bounced."

"…right," Amber realized, shaking her head. "Matou, what do you think?"

"The pillars. If we can bring them down, and the ceiling, we'll crush the artifact he wants," the Japanese boy said decisively.

"He'll probably escape, since he's closer to the exit than we are," Pansy pointed out. "Is that really fine?"

"We'll stop him from getting what he's after. He won't be able to resurrect his Master," Shinji shot back. "I think that counts as winning, don't you?"

"I agree. Let's go with Nats' plan," Phelan affirmed. "Huh. I think that's the first time we've agreed on anything, Suzuki. I suppose miracles do happen."

"Probably all you're due in this lifetime."

"…you know, for a Hufflepuff, you can be right nasty sometimes," the earl's son quipped.

"And what happened to a knight always showing courtesy to ladies?" Natsumi countered. "For someone always chasing the ideals of chivalry, you aren't very nice to me."

"Well, that would imply that you were actually a _lady_ , wouldn't it?"

"And here I thought it was your sister who cared most about people's positions in society."

* * *

' _Ah. Cunning. You do not choose reckless courage or half-hearted survival. You wish to define victory on your own terms.'_

' _Yes. And I don't believe in a no-win scenario,'_ Iris replied in her mind. _'Anything else, or have you made up your mind?'_

' _With all that, the choice is clear, I think. You are best suited to the House that seeks to carve its own destiny. The house whose members do not accept the rules or authority of others, who are seen as ambitious, but whose ambition is but the means to an end. Congratulations, Miss Potter, for you are a_ _ **SLYTHERIN!'**_

* * *

" **YES**!" Pansy exclaimed, pumping her fists into the air in a most unladylike outburst as Phelan just threw up his hands.

"Can you at least tell us how the other Sortings went?" the earl's son grumbled. "Any big surprises? Malfoy in Hufflepuff or something?"

"Well, naturally, Draco is a Slytherin, like his father before him. Tracey Davis & Daphne Greengrass are Ravenclaws. The Patil twins are Hufflepuffs, along with Terry Boot. Hermione Granger and Susan Bones are Gryffindors."

"...and let me guess, Sokaris is a Ravenclaw?" Shinji asked wryly.

"Naturally."

"Any other notables?" Amber questioned.

"One by the name of Lily Moon," Selina replied. "You'll meet her shortly."

"Lily Moon?" Amber echoed, tilting her head. "I don't recognize the name."

"Neither do I, and I like to think I know most people worth knowing," Pansy quipped, shaking her head. "Which makes me think she's not a Hogwarts student."

"She isn't…yet," the bespectacled blonde commented. "Though perhaps you'd recognize the name if I called her Liliana _Spencer-_ Moon?"

"Spencer-Moon?" Hannah Abbott echoed, seeming uncertain of where she might have heard the name. "Like the former Minister?"

"Is she related to the Spencer family?" Amber questioned, seeming intrigued by this detail. "Like Sir Winston and Princess Diana?"

"Yes, and yes," Selina confirmed. "She is the only grand-daughter of Leonard Spencer-Moon, who was Minister of Magic during the close of the Great Wizarding War. And as a Spencer, she is indeed related to Winston Spencer-Churchill, and of course, the Princess of Wales."

"Huh. Consider me interested," Amber noted. "Will we get a chance to play as her for a bit?"

"Would you like to?"

"…we've bollocksed up Potter's part in this little quest of ours, so why not someone else?" Ron huffed. "Yes. Better than…ugh…flirting with Malfoy again. That was…ugh…"

"Well, after a break then, shall we? I think Matou owes us a tour of his charming home," Selina murmured, smiling brightly at Shinji. "And a slice or two of pizza, was it? With some pop to go with it?"

"Pizza?" Ron echoed. "What's that?"

"Only the greatest food in the world," Phelan said heartily. "You'll love it."

"Anything else we should know before we go, so we can think as we eat?" Natsumi questioned. "Any changes to the Hogwarts staff? New classes? That sort of thing?"

"Well, I suppose the most relevant bit is that the Potions Master won't be Professor Slughorn, but one Lord Severus Black, the consort to Lady Andromeda, the Charms Instructor and Healer," Selina shared, with Nymphadora mouthing 'Lord Severus Black' incredulously. "Their young children, Alberio Rigel Black and Alkaid Merak Black, are often found around the castle. They live there, you see."

"Small children? At Hogwarts?" Ernie asked, blinking. "Younger than first years?"

"Yes. The Care of Magical Instructor is Remus Lupin, who those of you who don't sleep through history might remember from your reading books," she continued, glancing at Shinji, who flushed violently. "Arthur Weasley is the Muggle Studies Professor. And Gilderoy Lockhart, Britain's greatest adventurer, will be teaching History of Magic, with the help of his apprentice and fiancée, the lovely Nymphadora Black."

"Wait what," the aforementioned heiress of House Black spoke up. "I'm _whose_ fiancée?"

"In this continuity, Lockhart's," Selina said earnestly. "You two planned to elope, but your stepfather discovered your plans and rather…insisted at wandpoint that you have a year of supervised training before he would allow Lockhart to take you on some…unsupervised adventure around the world."

"Ha! Well, at least I don't sound _bored_ ," the Auror trainee allowed. "Lockhart, huh? Read his books, but never really talked to the man. Why not?" Seeing that she'd agreed, attention turned from her back to things like food or drink or conversation, and so everyone missed the next few words from her lips, murmured as they were. "Beats the pants off the fiancé I have now…"


	35. Lords of Swinverrucas, part 2

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 34.** _Lords of Swinverrucas, part 2_

As the owner of the cottage in which the party was being hosted, Matou Shinji found himself flitting about the various rooms, seeing to his guests during the intermission in the evening's entertainment, making sure they were all getting enough to eat, were mingling and talking (with no one just standing in a corner and nursing a mug of hot cocoa), and otherwise were enjoying themselves.

' _Not that I could have done any of this without help.'_

Natsumi had helped him come up with the theme for the housewarming party, encouraged him to make it a potluck so that everyone could share some of their favorite foods, and worked with him to figure out how many people could actually fit comfortably in the cottage.

Amber had sent out the invitations, asked if Miss Black would be willing to be the chaperone for the evening, and coordinated logistics with the guests, making sure that everyone knew what time to be there, how much food they should bring for the potluck, and how they should be dressed.

And of course, Selina had agreed to manage the evening's entertainment, a collaborative storytelling event. When she'd proposed it, Shinji had been more than a little skeptical, but when she'd mentioned that an adventurer's deadliest weapon was their mind, with anyone who wanted to be great needing to examine possibilities from different angles – with Nymphadora Black backing her up by mentioning that Auror training had involved these sorts of roleplays, he'd dropped his objections.

' _Come to think of it, this isn't that different from Quirrell's challenges, only without a fancy magical book to immerse us physically in a scenario.'_

As it turned out though, people didn't need a completely realistic setting or the aid of an artifact to treat something as if it was real.

The…intense discussions that had transpired over the last couple of hours had proven that much, with everyone having different views on how to shape the future of a character that had never existed to begin with.

Iris Potter, the so-called Girl-Who-Lived.

' _Things would be very different if there'd been a Boy-Who-Lived, or a Girl-Who-Lived_ ,'the boy thought to himself, wondering how accurate the world that Selina had crafted actually was. Granted, he was sure it was far more so than anything he could come up with, since he wasn't exactly a great scholar of history himself, and so probably wouldn't be any good at coming up with the backstory to a scenario. _'Though really, I blame Binns for that.'_

The ghost may have been a professor for a good number of years, but length of tenure was hardly a good metric for measuring his performance as a _teacher_.

' _Who knows, maybe Binns will vanish next year, and we'll have Lockhart or…someone,'_ he mused. Someone who could actually keep a class awake. Or at least, keep _him_ awake? Even someone like Aozaki Touko would do. Either way, he was glad that _he_ wasn't the one making up the fictional history of the new world.

Or so he told himself as he made his way over to Cho Chang and Nigel Wroxton, who alone of the guests, had not dispersed about the house for food, to chat with the other guests, or to tour the publicly accessible area.

"Hey there," Shinji said, giving the two Ravenclaws a warm smile as he approached. But his expression faltered as he noted that Nigel had his eyes closed, with his breathing somewhat ragged, and Cho bent over the older boy and rubbing his back.

The Chinese girl looked up and gave him a wan smile as he drew near.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice soft and somewhat worn. "Did you need something, Matou?"

Shinji swallowed, having not expected to see something like this. "Um…is he alright?" he asked, feeling almost obligated to do so. "Do you need anything?"

"Some water would be nice," Cho replied, glancing over at Nigel worriedly. "Nigel is…the session was a bit intense for him. Especially when it came to the Sorting." She looked back at Shinji. "It's our first time doing this sort of thing, and things were a bit…much."

"Ah…sorry," Shinji said sheepishly. "Let me get some water."

He walked over to the tray of cold glasses on a table by the wall and retrieved two.

"Here," he murmured, handing one to Cho.

The Chinese girl smiled slightly as she took the glass and handed it to Nigel, whose fingers closed around it slowly.

"Huh?" Nigel said, opening his eyes at last. "Oh. Water. Thanks."

It was almost painful watching the older boy struggle to bring the glass to his lips, his hands shaking as if from some great exertion. There were several false starts, with Shinji biting his lip each time the other failed, before the stricken youth eventually managed to take a drink at last.

"Sorry you had to see that," Nigel half-whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm not on death's door anymore, but exerting myself too much or for too long is still…" He swallowed, wincing. "Exhausting." He smiled ruefully. "That, and I can't eat most of the things here. Too much grease."

"Oh." Shinji's expression was pained as he considered the other boy. "I, ah…I didn't think about your circumstances."

Between the pizza Amber had ordered, the fried chicken and cake he'd had prepared, the roast turkey, the sausages, the puddings, and the _okonomiyaki_ (well, _modan-yaki_ , since it was being served with a layer of _yakisoba)_ that Rumpy was making at the main table, there weren't many things that were low in oil.

Or…

"I think there might be some soup, if you'd like?" he offered, feeling more than a little like he'd failed at something. "Or, if you want, I could bring over a self-heating cauldron and some ingredients, and you two can enjoy some hot pot?"

"Hot pot would be good. Can you eat that, Nigel?" Cho asked, with the stricken youth nodding.

"Hot pot…I don't think I've ever had that," the older boy reflected. "What is it?"

"Um…you keep a pot of soup stock boiling at the table, and you cook things in it – meat, vegetables, things like that," the Chinese girl explained, with the Ravenclaw boy smiling slightly.

"…I think I can eat that," the British boy remarked as he looked up at Shinji. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"No. None at all," the Japanese boy said with a nod. "You're my guests. The least I can do is make sure you're comfortable."

"Thanks, Matou," Nigel murmured, before sitting back once more. "For what it's worth, it's been fun so far. Thanks for inviting me."

"And for having me," Cho added, her lips quirking slightly. "I had my doubts when Miss Moore said that we'd be doing a simulation, but it turned out better than I expected." She chuckled, recalling something from early on that evening. "Imagining someone like Draco Malfoy acting like a love-sick puppy was kind of funny."

"Heh." Shinji found himself smiling just a hint himself, as those early events in the story had been rather amusing in ways that he'd never seen coming. _'But then, who would have expected that Draco, beyond just wanting to be Iris' friend, would escort her around Diagon Alley and pay for her purchases.'_ "That whole bit about Hagrid having killed someone was odd though."

"They do say giants are dangerous, so I wouldn't be surprised…" Nigel mused, though he leaned forward, seeming to recall something. "Though won't he be a student next year? As a third year, since that's what he was when he was expelled?"

Cho blinked.

"I'm going to be in classes with _him_ next year?" the girl asked, visibly recoiling from the very notion. "That's…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "…unexpected," she muttered.

"I can see how it might be disturbing, though I think the only person he was accused of killing was Myrtle, and I'm pretty sure the new investigation found that she died because of the basilisk that used to be in the Chamber of Secrets," Shinji replied, with Nigel blinking slowly at that. "That's why they let him start school again."

"Oh," Cho said. "Do you think he'll be put back in his old House, or will he be Sorted again?"

Shinji frowned.

"I never really thought about that," he grunted, now wondering to himself if the half-giant would be living in the dormitories, or if he'd still be living in his cottage. "We'll see, I suppose." The boy smiled half-heartedly. "I'll go get Rumpy to bring you something to eat."

* * *

While the boy had hoped that people would enjoy the food – and Natsumi had thought it would be charming to have a house-elf be making _okonomiyaki_ for everyone – Shinji honestly hadn't been sure that the food would be to everyone's taste, given that British food certainly hadn't been to his liking at the Welcome Feast.

' _But maybe I shouldn't have worried,'_ he mused as he walked into the dining room to find most of his guests seated around the table, oohing and ahhing over the new culinary delights they were being exposed to, though perhaps some of that was just how an elf stuffed inside a Yeti plush was showing off by cooking several of the savory pancakes at once. _'The British did conquer the world in search of better tasting food, right?'_

Selina had told him so, and he had no reason to disbelieve her, really, since any culture which prized pumpkin juice to such a degree was clearly a primitive backwater in need of good civilization.

Or so he told himself as he waited for the house-elf to finish the current batch of pancakes before pulling him aside and telling him about Nigel's special dietary needs.

"Yes, Rumpy being happy to help!" the strange creature said, snapping off a salute as it scuttled away to the kitchen on all fours.

'… _I know I should be used to this by now, but maybe I should look into a replacement.'_

"Ah, Matou, hullo," Luna Lovegood greeted him, with the bird-reptile hybrid on her hat waving its wings and dipping its head.

"Hullo, Luna," Shinji replied warmly, as he glanced about the table and noticed a few conspicuous absences. "Are Phelan, Ernie, and Selina not joining us for dinner?" Natsumi, he knew, had taken Marten out for a walk, with Amber joining them, but the others… _'Wait, there's one more person missing too.'_ It was one of his fellow Hufflepuffs, he knew – Ernie's guest for the evening – but he honestly hadn't been very good about remembering people outside his inner circle. "Justin?" he hazarded, hoping that he' gotten the name right.

"Oh, I'm here!" a voice spoke up from what was seemingly thin air, with the boy from the east looking over to see a drumstick rising into the air, with _something_ taking a bite out of it.

"What the…where?" Shinji asked, taken aback by the sight of fried chicken seeming to devour itself.

"Ah, right, sorry," the voice spoke again, with a rather serious-looking face, and the head it was attached to appearing in mid-air. "Heh, forgot I was wearing this."

"Who, wicked. Is that…an invisibility cloak?" Ron Weasley questioned, having paused in his sampling of the many culinary delights on the table at the sudden commotion. "Where'd you get one?"

"My parents gave me some pocket money for Christmas, so I went to Diagon Alley," Justin Finch-Fletchy replied brightly. "After I gave them a copy of _Journeys with Jinns_ , they were all for me getting the right tools to become a wizard-adventurer."

"…and just what are you supposed to be?" Shinji's voice was perhaps a put out, but he didn't consider it particularly good form for someone to show up at a party and not even talk to other people. "A boggart?"

"No, a demiguise," the other Hufflepuff said earnestly. "One of those monkey-like things from the Far East which can turn invisible."

"Demiguise hair is used to make invisibility cloaks," Luna Lovegood chimed in, having just set down a slice of pepperoni pizza.

Shinji blinked, as the creature was unfamiliar to him, despite allegedly being from the far east.

"Huh. I don't think I've ever seen one," he said aloud, to which Ron Weasley shot back that of course he hadn't – they were invisible. "That's not what I meant, Ronald, and you know it. "

"Well, it's what you said."

The boy from the east closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten.

"Perhaps it was. I'll be more careful in the future," he replied tonelessly as he opened his eyes again. "And what about the others?"

"Ernie Macmillan had something serious he wanted to talk about with Miss Moore," Luna related, with the boy shooting her a grateful smile for the information. The smile froze as she continued though. "As for Phelan, he went to keep Miss Black company. Something about standing in for the house elf."

"Keep…Miss Black…company?" the Japanese boy repeated, as a nightmare vision of the earl's son getting utterly smashed and doing something unspeakable to the house – or to one of the other guests – appeared in his mind. _'No. No. No. That won't happen. Miss Black is the chaperone tonight. She's an Auror Trainee. She wouldn't do something like give alcohol to a minor.'_

At least, he dearly hoped so, because the prospect of Phelan going even more out of control than he usually was…

' _Well, let's hope that doesn't happen,'_ he told himself, banishing the premonition of disaster from his mind. _'It won't. It won't.'_

"Well, never mind that," Shinji said after a few moments, turning his attention back to his guest, and the guests of his guests, some of which seemed a bit ill at ease, since they didn't know him too well, yet were enjoying the hospitality of his house. "How is everyone doing tonight? Is everything to your liking?"

"Y-yeah. T-thanks for asking," Neville Longbottom stammered, unable to meet the Japanese boy's half-fevered gaze. "A-and, uh, thanks for inviting me."

Left unspoken was the fact that the awkward boy wasn't often invited to social gatherings, since he was hardly the most sociable person about. Even if one was just considering things at Hogwarts, he wasn't exactly picked for group activities or such, at least in anything not related to Herbology.

"But of course, Longbottom," the boy from the east replied. "We know each other well enough, don't we? Besides, you and your girlfriend certainly do add a bit of color to the room," he added, noting how the stodgy Gryffindor was wearing a mantle inset with many shards of colored glass, with a helmet studded with the same. Hannah Abbott's robes, by contrast, seemed to have been dipped in green, with delicate, vine-like filigree in green gold running up and down, and two long leaves woven into her hair. "A fire crab and a bowtruckle, was it?"

"S/he's not my boy/girlfriend!" the two replied with reddened faces in perfect sync, making Ronald Weasley snigger, and their blushes only deepen.

"Um, that is, yes, I'm a bowtruckle!" Hannah exclaimed, smiling brightly at the Japanese boy. "Are you supposed to be a one too?" she asked, gesturing at his cloak of vines and his crown of branches. "You don't look…quite green enough."

"Ah, no – I'm a _kodama_ , a tree spirit from Japan," Shinji corrected her, with a twinge of amusement. "They're not as well-known as _kitsune_ or _tanuki_ – foxes or raccoon-dogs – but they're pretty special anyway. Still, your costume is my…third favorite of the night?"

"Oh, then which is your first?" Neville asked curiously, wondering what kind of costume Matou preferred.

"Hers," the boy from the east remarked, nodding over at Ginny Weasley, whose robes seemed woven of multi-colored scales, with iridescent scale-like patterns painted on her arms, a scaled mask that accentuated the shape of her eyes, and two somewhat crumpled antlers sprouting delicately from her mane of flowing red hair. "I never thought to see a _kirin_ in my lifetime _! As lovely as I imagined, too!"_

Hearing his words, Ginny's cheeks darkened dramatically, till they matched the color of her hair.

"Actually, she's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Luna said matter of factly, glancing between her friend and the party's host. "But, what's a _kirin_?"

"Hm? And I was sure…" Shinji mumbled, shaking his head. "Well, a _kirin_ is magical creature said to appear with the imminent birth or death of a great sage or a wise ruler," he explained, before an impish smile crossed his lips. "Which probably explains why no one has seen one in a very long time."

Ginny, giggled a bit at this, a sound which Shinji found to be quite pretty, like the tinkling of bells.

"Rare and beautiful creatures, even seeing them is said to bring fortune to anyone who sees them, and I think the legends true, as I am fortunate to have you at my party, Miss Weasley," Shinji said with a roguish smile, causing the petite redhead's flush to deepen, while Ron shot him a withering glare. "But, I'd consider myself even more fortunate if you graced us with the sound of your voice after the break, as you haven't added much to the story we weave."

"…I'll try…" Ginny said softly, her voice barely audible, with the Japanese boy smiling warmly at her.

"Please do. You have a lovely voice, one that should be shared with the world, much like this excellent costume." The boy paused, tilting his head. "Wherever did you come with the idea to dress as a _ki—uh,_ Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Ginny just pointed at Luna, with Shinji raising an eyebrow as he turned to her.

"It was originally mine," the moon-bright girl murmured in her sing-song tones. "The Crumple-Horned Snorkack is my favorite magical creature, after all. Mother saw one once before I was born, after all."

"Oh?" Somehow, Miss Lovegood didn't exactly resemble what he would think of as a sage, yet he didn't think the fact that what she called a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was essentially a _kirin_ was coincidence either. This bore looking into. Later. "And you lent her yours?"

"That explains a lot," Ronald Weasley muttered, "Was wondering why Loony had the less whacky costume between her and Gin."

"Hey, don't call her Loony!" Ginny growled, looking up at her bother – brother. "Besides, this is a nice costume. Unlike that big…yellow, bird thing you're wearing."

"You take that back!" Ron said, raising his voice. "Fred and George worked hard on this for me."

"And you think they didn't do anything weird to it? Maybe have you turn into a bird at midnight?"

Ronald Weasley grew very quiet – and very thoughtful – after that.

"…hey, Matou, want to trade costumes?" he offered with what bits of dignity he had left.

Shinji took about two seconds to consider how to phrase what he was about to say gracefully but failed.

"You know, Weasley, I think you pull off the big yellow bird better than I do," the boy from the east replied gravely, with Ron just grumbling about how no one appreciated the history of Quidditch. "Other than your costume, are you liking the entertainment?"

"Well, I didn't really want to make Iris act like she wants to snog Malfoy's face off," the redhead commented sullenly. "And I don't really want to play a Slytherin either. Especially one who just listens to Malfoy's drivel about good families, idolizes Lockhart, and…yeah. It might have started ok, but…it got weird."

"You want to play as someone else?" Shinji probed, feeling a bit sympathetic to Ron's plight. It wasn't _his_ fault that Cho, Natsumi, and Amber had basically taken over many of the choices, deciding that they may as well levy a pretty girl's privileges. "This Liliana girl Selina mentioned?"

Ron made a face.

"She sounds like she'd be even worse than Potter," he growled. "A Minister's granddaughter _and_ a Noble, like the Blacks? I'd rather play as Malfoy. At least he's…"

"A guy?"

"YES!" Ron exclaimed, sounding utter relieved, yet repulsed as he continued. "He's a right prat, but he's a lot less scary than some…girls." He paused, his smile becoming somewhat… _vicious_. "Even if we did put that Granger girl in her place."

"I-I'm not sure if making her run away is a good thing," Neville opined. "Even if you don't like Granger for some reason—"

"—because SHE TRIED TO KILL ME—"

"—this Granger hasn't done the things the real one has," the heavyset Gryffindor stated. "You shouldn't hate someone for things they've never done."

"But…its Granger. How can she _not_ do those things when she's _already_ done them?!"

"Granger…in a story," Hannah Abbott commented, finding herself a little frightened of Ron's outburst. "A Granger whose only crime was to be annoying in how much she was fawning over Iris up until we sent her running."

"Yeah. Some of what Iris said was a bit much…" Neville agreed.

Privately, Shinji didn't think that he'd made Iris say anything too strange on the train, given that he'd mostly been advocating the standard magus view that only a society that moved forward, that embraced the _truth_ had meaning, and that all else was secondary, be it morals, ethics, or the law. Since the group had decided to portray Iris as a powerful practitioner of the magical arts (or to make her pass herself off as one), he'd added in little tidbits here and there.

Bits about how without _ambition_ , there was no future. Without the courage to accept change, and defy stagnation, one would never gain…true wisdom. As such, obstacles should be eliminated, with those who did not struggle, who do not seek to transcend being…purged.

In retrospect, perhaps it was not so surprising that Granger would have found this talk disturbing, after all. What _was_ surprising was how a version of Sialim Sokaris had entered during Iris' magus-like speech, proceeding to argue another perspective. According to _her_ , it was the very mediocrity of society that allowed social structures and order to be maintained, that created a framework in which the brilliant could work – and if there were no rules, than mankind would meet its end.

Iris had bluntly asked who the interloper – an obvious nobody – was, with Sokaris introducing herself as the ward of Nicholas Flamel, who had arranged for her to study at Hogwarts under the tutelage of Lord Severus Black, the world-famous Potioneer.

…following that revelation, most of the group's attempts to build good relations with future Slytherins had been for naught, as with the exception of Draco, most of those in the compartment were far more interested in the knowledge possessed by one who studied Alchemy.

"Well…you might be right," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. "Let's try to do our best with Liliana and Draco then, hm?"

There was a chorus of yeses, with the boy from the east heading off shortly after to seek Selina and ask when she wanted to start again.

…and, yes, to make sure Phelan hadn't done anything outrageous.

Again.

* * *

"So, just so you know, due to Liliana having a bit more experience at this whole magic thing than Iris, you won't be doing something as simple as choosing a class for her to focus on and one to…put less effort into," the young game master explained, once everyone was gathered again in the large salon. "For her, she looks at magic in terms of _domains."_

"Domains…?" Pansy echoed. "Explain."

"Domains like Knowledge, Charm, Creation, Destruction, Balance – each of which affect multiple subject areas," Selina elaborated. "Something like Creation, for instance, will give a bonus to Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology, while giving a disadvantage to Defense. Knowledge will increase her knowledge in most non-practical disciplines. Destruction, well…charms and defense, mostly, with a malus to creation-related disciplines. Balance is just neutral."

"Ah. That's an odd way to look at things," Shinji remarked.

"Isn't every way?"

"Well, true," the Japanese boy admitted. "In that case…maybe Creation?"

"I would have thought destruction," Natsumi murmured, somewhat surprised.

"Or maybe Charm?" Amber ribbed. "You could use a bit more of it yourself, Matou."

"Let's take this to a vote then, shall we?" Selina suggested, with a slim minority settling on Creation.

"We need someone for Iris to copy homework off of!" Ron explained, with Pansy just rolling her eyes with a long-suffering sigh.

"…yeah, you wouldn't last a day in Slytherin."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Prat."

* * *

After being sorted into Slytherin, much the joy of that house and the horror of the others, Iris found herself at a bit of a loss as she walked over the seat Draco had saved for her. It didn't escape her that most of the other people she'd sat with on the train had gone elsewhere – mostly to Ravenclaw, for whatever reason.

"Glad you're with us," Draco said warmly. "With the Hat taking so long to Sort you, I almost thought you were going to go off and get put into Hufflepuff or something."

* * *

"Hey!" Ernie interrupted. "What do you mean by that?"

Selina sighed.

"Don't take it personally, and remember, these aren't _my_ thoughts. They're Draco's."

"…right."

* * *

The reason for the others joining Ravenclaw became clear shortly afterwards, with Sialim Sokaris being Sorted into that House.

' _They must have known she was going there,'_ Iris realized, trying – and failing – to hide her disappointment that whatever pull she had among the students of Hogwarts, it wasn't enough to beat out Flamel's ward, whoever _Flamel_ was.

She couldn't exactly ask either, not without revealing her ignorance of the magical world, if Flamel happened to be at all important.

"Hmph. Dangle a hint about of forbidden knowledge in front of people and they forget who they are," Draco murmured, shaking his head. "Just because she's Flamel's ward doesn't mean she'll teach you how to make a Philosopher's Stone."

"No, but you don't need a Philosopher's Stone to impress Professor Slughorn, by all accounts," a voice spoke up from Iris' other side, with the Girl-Who-Lived turning slowly to see a striking green-eyed blonde. "Sometimes the ones most successful in their ambitions are the ones who are not afraid to venture far afield."

"And sometimes, you do best when you remember what you already have, instead of chasing an impossible dream," Draco countered, raising an eyebrow. "Moon, was it?"

"If you want to be informal, then yes," the other girl responded, her voice taking on an aristocratic tone. "But I think you, Mister Malfoy, would better recognize my pedigree if I call myself Liliana Spencer-Moon."

"Spencer…like the former Minister?" Malfoy asked sharply.

"Exactly so," Liliana replied with a thin smile, as she turned to the Girl-Who-Lived. "And I know who you are of course, Miss Potter."

"You and everyone else at Hogwarts, it seems," Iris quipped, to which Liliana just tossed her hair.

"Yes, though unlike most of them, I'm not especially impressed by rumors and speculation about past deeds," the blonde commented wryly. "I hear enough of them when I spend time around people from the International Confederation."

Draco's eyes bulged at this minor name drop, and he swallowed.

"You, uh, know many people there?"

"My grandfather raised me, so I've spent a good deal of time getting to know his colleagues," Liliana noted diffidently. "And you? I hear there is always a Malfoy close to the Minister, so do you know many people in the Ministry?"

"Yes?" Draco hazarded, but at a _look_ , just sighed. "No, except for Lord Black. He's my godfather you know."

"Ah yes, Lord Black – I have heard…stories about him," the blonde commented.

"Good ones, I hope."

"Among others," the girl quipped, before turning her attention to the red-head sitting beside her. "And you, Iris?"

"Yes, of course," the Girl-Who-Lived replied immediately. "I'm on good terms with Mister Malfoy. And a few others."

There was a beat, as Liliana just looked at her, before nodding.

"Of course you are," she allowed grandly, noting out of the corner of her eye that the Sortings had just finished. "And will you be taking any of the extracurriculars? Some of them seem quite promising."

* * *

"Extracurriculars?" Shinji echoed. "But Iris is a first year. What would she know about these things?"

"Watch and learn, Matou."

* * *

"Well, my father would like me to take **How to Make Friends and Influence People** , which conveniently is being put on by our Head of House," Draco offered, wanting to impress both Iris and Liliana with what he knew. "He's a family friend, but he also knows a good many people in Britain, so his connections would be invaluable."

"I see," the former Minister's grand-daughter noted. "I would think that **Moon, Mood, and Medicine** sounds more interesting."

"I don't see myself becoming a Healer in the future," the Malfoy scion said stiffly. "And as I recall, it is better to have a better understanding of Astronomy before taking it. Third-year, at least if you are not my young cousins."

"Ah, little Alberio and Alkaid?"

"…you know their names." Draco blinked, slightly disconcerted.

"I may have written to your godfather before coming here," Liliana told him, before turning to Iris. "And what about you? What course strikes your fancy?"

"What were the options again?" Iris inquired a tad sheepishly. "I admit that I didn't really pay attention to the extra classes. I had other things on my mind, you see."

"In that case, let me enlighten you," Liliana said expansively. "Among the classes on offer are **Adventuring 101,** taught by Lady Nymphadora Black, **Magical Art,** taught by Professor Vector, the **Dramatic Arts** , taught by Gilderoy Lockhart, **Frog Choir** , taught by Filius Flitwick, **Home Economics** , taught by Lord Black, the aforementioned **How to Make Friends and Influence People, Occlumency and You** , taught by Professor Quirrell, and **Moon, Mood, and Medicine,** taught by Lady Andromeda Black and Remus Lupin." The blonde smiled just a hint. "And while they all sound interesting, we can only choose one."

"So why did you two choose what you did?" seemed the obvious follow-up to that.

"My father would like me to better acquainted wither with Slughorn or with one of my…relatives," Draco sniffed. "Not that I think that Home Economics will be of much worth, since that's what a House Elf is for. That, and Lord Black used me to determine what a Pureblood could stand to learn, so I know most of the material already. And while Adventuring sounds interesting, my cousin is something of the rebel of the family, and my father would prefer I not associate with her.

"As for me," Liliana stated, "learning about how the moon affects medicine and magic from both a noted witch and a werewolf sounds interesting."

"A werewolf, huh?"

"Yes, Remus Lupin was one of father's friends," Draco noted, shaking his head. "Though with that name, you'd think his parents were tempting fate."

"No more than yours," Liliana quipped. "Best beware of dragons, Malfoy, for you are crunchy and go well with catsup."

"…catsup?"

"…a dipping sauce."

Truthfully, Iris was uncertain what would fit her best, but…

"I think I'll choose Home Economics," she said after some thought, prompting Draco to look at her strangely. "I like cooking," she explained. "I've been doing it for years, and would like to see what a skilled potioneer thinks of the subject."

She wasn't sure if she'd be able to learn much from the others, as they would no doubt expect her to know things she had no way of knowing, since she hadn't actually grown up in the wizarding world, but if this was cooking…yes, she thought she could excel.

"Well, um, I see," Draco grunted. "Ah, I may not like the course much, but ah, I would be happy to help you with any assignments. Or to try out any dishes you may make…just to make sure they meet with the approval of my godfather, you see?"

"Riiight," Liliana drawled. "And you wouldn't dream of bragging of enjoying home-cooked meals made by the Girl-Who-Lived, hm?"

"...of course I wouldn't. I'm just helping a fellow student."

"Mhm."

"Really."

"Suuure."

"Confound it, why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're not particularly believable when you're face is that red, Mister Malfoy."


	36. A Night at the Ministry

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 35.** _A Night at the Ministry_

Several days later, it was the eve of the New Year, and Matou Shinji found himself wondering if he was out of his depth as he stood just inside the entrance of the Ministry of Magic, looking at the sea of colors and fabrics worn by the many practitioners of witchcraft that had gathered for the Minister's Ball, accented by the colors of the food at the buffet tables and the drinks in the hands of the attendees.

' _Why did I decide to come to this again?'_

Of those gathered, he only recognized the Minister, Professor Quirrell, and who he thought might be Gilderoy Lockhart, though he could guess that the others were politicians, Ministry officials, sportsmen and other…celebrities.

The movers and shakers of Magical Britain.

Not…students with no claim to fame.

' _Well, I was there when the Chamber of Secrets was discovered, I guess, but I didn't really get the credit for that.'_

On the other hand, his friends had lived, and none of them had been sent to Azkaban for his involvement in the death of Argus Filch. He'd even profited financially from the Chamber Incident, given that it had paid for all of his Christmas gifts and his new cottage, so he supposed thathow things turned out had been more than fair.

' _Still…'_

What was he doing here?

At 2000 Galleons for a pair of tickets (and the cost of dress robes, a good hairdresser, and others), the cost of attending Minister's Ball was rather beyond the financial means of most in Britain, meaning that while it was, in theory, open to anyone who could afford it, in practice, it was an exclusive gathering of the well-to-do.

A gathering at which there were few his age.

Yet here he was, wearing not enchanted dress robes, but a kimono woven of silk as dark as midnight, accompanied by a black _haori_ and _hakama_. The only color on his ensemble other than black came from the flashes of white from his three _kamon_ – resist dyed crests – on the center of the back, and the sleeves, denoting the Matou house.

Comparatively, the _furisode_ his friend Natsumi was wearing was much more colorful, featuring pink chrysanthemums embroidered on a canvas of pink and black silk, with a rich underlayer of crimson and gold, all bound together by a pink and black obi embroidered with yellow star-shaped patterns. To complement the kimono, her rich, chestnut hair had been braided and pinned up with hairpin carved into the shape of chrysanthemums.

She…cleaned up nicely, certainly, seeming the very picture of a _yamato nadeshiko,_ instead of the mischievous girl he'd known for half a year. Still, in the back of his mind, he did think she'd look better with a blade in her hand for some reason – though, something like a kodachi or a katana, not a rapier.

' _Well, I suppose it would be bad form to bring a weapon to the Minister's Ball.'_

Unsurprisingly, the Aurors at the entrance had made all of the guests check in their wand – something that was only wise when there were so many notable individuals in attendance, and a great deal of alcohol besides!

' _Though, it is odd…we just walked in, so why is everyone looking at us?'_

It wasn't as if he or Natsumi were wearing anything more extravagant than the literally enchanted outfits that some had come in, as Shinji could see some outfits changing color to react to moods, or trailing tails of iridescent fabric which seemed to move with a mind of their own.

' _And surely we're not well enough known that we command the attention of a room. Yet.'_

What the boy didn't realize was that it was he and his companion's very lack of fame, and their young age, coupled with the mundane but exotic nature of the garments they wore that drew wandering eyes, the pressure of which he felt as keenly as knives sticking into his chest.

Matou Shinji had never really been the center of attention like this, at least not when it hadn't been planned out beforehand, and he…wasn't ready to have an entire crowd of movers and shakers – strangers – looking at him, _judging_ him, whispering about him.

Every started to spin, to grow, to shake, with the boy wishing the earth would open up and swallow him, if only to hide him from the others, as their gazes felt cold, so _cold_ , freezing him to the spot. He couldn't move – couldn't speak – couldn't really look away, _frozen—_

' _Huh? It's…warm?'_

…until Natsumi took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his, the warmth of her touch distracting him from the others around him. He glanced over instinctively, and once he did…he could see only her.

Only her smile, only the mischief in her dark brown eyes.

Only the face of his best friend.

"Here we are," she murmured, with the boy's gaze drawn to her glistening lips as he swallowed.

"Y-yes, here we are," the boy repeated, finding it hard to speak.

"Since we're here…let's not stand in the doorway, hm? We wouldn't want someone to knock us over when we're all dressed up."

"…true," he conceded, beginning to walk forward once more as the chestnut-haired girl led him forward along the red carpet as cameras flashed, and a couple of people raised their glasses in welcome.

One did more than that though, with a portly man emerging from the crowd to join them as they made their way into the atrium.

' _Professor Slughorn?'_ Shinji thought, as he recognized the man in his robe of many colors. _'Why is he…?'_

But the answer came to mind as soon as he'd asked.

Professor Slughorn knew people, made connections with promising individuals and helped them in their rise to greatness, with they in turn acknowledging that their old mentor had done for them in a more…material fashion.

"Ah. Mister Matou. Miss Suzuki," the Potions Master of Hogwarts greeted them grandly, his dress robes swirling around him as he moved. Beside him, there was a rather non-descript man in somber blacks and a powdered wig, who looked over the students appraisingly. "Just the ones I was speaking of."

"Professor Slughorn," Natsumi curtsied respectfully, with Shinji mumbling something along those lines.

"Your students, Horace?" the other spoke, his English tinged with a strange accent that Shinji couldn't quite place.

"Yes. Two of the most promising first years at Hogwarts," Slughorn continued, with a deferential nod towards whoever the other man was. "I would almost say prodigies, though there is one whose talent is greater than even theirs."

"Oh? From one of the Great Families?" the darkly dressed man inquired.

"No. An orphan from Egypt actually," the Potions Master replied, with the other seeming taken aback by this. "It is always who you'd least expect."

"I recall," the other man noted. "The last time…a muggleborn and some half-blooded prince?"

"Yes. Both dead in the…unpleasantness a decade ago."

"Ah, my condolences," the non-descript man commented. "I confess I do not keep abreast of current events in Britain."

"No reason to, on that isle of yours," Professor Slughorn demurred, before turning back to the first years. "Students, I would like to introduce you to the greatest Alchemist in the World," the portly man continued, gesturing to the man beside him. "The creator of the Philosopher's Stone, Nicholas Flamel. Nicholas, Shinji Matou and Natsumi Suzuki."

Shinji blinked, remembering what Quirrell had said about the tragedy of Nicholas the Wise, while Natsumi curtsied again.

"It is an honor, Mister Flamel," the Japanese girl said formally.

"Truly an honor," Shinji added.

"Nonsense," the alchemist replied, with a warm smile on his face. "The honor is mine. Horace has told me of your passion and talent for our craft, the most sublime of all the magical arts." He paused. "And do I detect a Japanese accent, Mister Matou?"

"Y…yes, sir," the boy remarked, wondering how he recognized it. "I can't place yours though. It's not British, I know that."

"I suppose you wouldn't," Flamel allowed. "I was from France, Paris, as it happened, but that was centuries ago. Even the French do not sound much like me anymore."

"Ah. The benefits of a long life, sir?" Natsumi inquired, with the alchemist nodding.

"You could say that," the older man replied. "Sadly, despite the benefits of immortality, the Elixir of Life does not turn back time, so I will never be a young man again, able to indulge in a young man's pleasures or ambitions." Flamel chuckled. "Speaking of the young, how is Albus…your Headmaster, I believe?" Natsumi nodded. "Ah, yes. When I met him, he was but a learner, a youth hungry for the knowledge I had gathered over hundreds of years. Yet now, he is a teacher, a master of one of the Eleven schools, where others come to learn. I suppose that the circle is complete."

"Headmaster Dumbledore was once…your apprentice?" Shinji asked, his thoughts working furiously as what Quirrell had said that fateful night long ago rose to the forefront of his mind. "He…wanted to save someone from death?"

"Among other things," the Alchemist acknowledged. "A very promising young man, though that promise was tainted both by his hunger for greatness and recognition, and by his despair."

"His…despair?"

"No matter how hard he worked, how far he reached in his studies, his goal eluded him," Flamel murmured, as if noting a bit of unpleasantness. "But then, it was impossible from the start. The Elixir of Life can extend one's lifespan, or heal any ailment, but there is nothing it can do with one whose soul has already departed." The man grimaced. "In the end, he went his way and I went mine."

"What happened next?" Natsumi questioned, finding herself curious about the Headmaster's past.

"He became a teacher, much to my surprise," the Alchemist related. "He had the potential to do so much, yet when he discovered that all his might would avail him naught in his goal, he…gave up. Or so I thought until the day he took to the battlefield and struck down Grindelwald, ending the Great Wizarding War." The man chuckled, his lips betraying a hint of amusement. "Despite how hard he worked at trying to become an Alchemist, Albus was always a man who preferred the wand to the cauldron. Though…I am surprised that he never took the position of Minister after it was offered to him, but perhaps he simply grew old." Flamel's smile seemed a bit sad as he shook his head. "But then, all men grow old and die in time, if not in body then in spirit. Well…save for myself. And of course, my lovely wife, though she is no man." The man sighed. "But that is enough talk of the past. Do you have questions for me, young Seekers of Truth?"

"Have you given any thought to an heir?" Shinji spoke before thinking, an odd expression briefly stealing across his features as he glanced at the Alchemist. "While you may not fear dying from old age, that doesn't eliminate the possibility of...accidents, after all."

Or well…untimely betrayals.

Nicholas Flamel blinked.

"...a very direct child, aren't you? Very unlike your countrymen," the Alchemist noted coolly. "Still, I suppose your question is harmless. I have no heir of my body, but ideally one of my apprentices would take up my art if and when I pass on." But the man shook his head. "Alas, I have found none worthy of teaching the greatest secret of Alchemy to. Many begin walking the path, yet are without the patience and dedication to see it through to the end, finding themselves distracted by other ambitions, other desires, other goals. Most, you see, have trouble accepting that the greatest of magics isn't that what one can weave with a wand, but with one's mind and one's hands."

"Huh." Shinji needed a moment to process the fact that Nicholas Flamel _had no heir_. That he wanted to entrust everything to an _apprentice._ Suddenly the scenario that Quirrell had implied, that Flamel would be betrayed by his apprentice, seemed much more plausible, since it was an _apprentice_ who would inherit everything. "Who came the closest so far?"

"Young Albus," the man readily supplied. "As I said, he was a brilliant youth. Just…one who became disillusioned with his path. Still, he is a help to me, in the few occasions I find myself needing to trust someone with a favor that requires more in the way of…shall we say, brawn than brain."

'… _it's true then. What Quirrell said. What Sokaris implied._ The Stone. The **Philosopher's Stone** _ **is at Hogwarts.'**_

Somehow, the Headmaster had managed to get Flamel to give him the Stone, perhaps because there was a threat that the Alchemist believed only the Headmaster could stop…and Dumbledore, if Quirrell was right, _had no intention of returning it._

The realization hit him like a thunderbolt.

Quirrell hadn't been exaggerating at all, hadn't lied, had he?

'… _and if, in the course of attempting to protect it, the apprentice is forced to_ destroy _the Stone_ to keep it from falling into the hands of a foe…'

Shinji swallowed, as everything _finally made sense._

Dumbledore didn't want the Stone for himself. He wanted it destroyed, believing it worthless, since it could not fix the root of his despair – and worse, might be a threat, if perhaps his last foe had found a way to bind his soul to his plane of existence.

' _What do I do…what do I…'_

Fortunately, while he stood frozen, unable to process the thoughts in his head, his companion spoke up, drawing the Alchemist's attention.

"Since you have had many students, do you have any advice for someone just starting out on the path?" Natsumi inquired, with the man nodding gravely.

"Since you go to Hogwarts, I counsel you to develop a firm foundation in potions and herbology," Flamel replied, nodding to the Potions Master of the school, standing beside him. "These two disciplines, along with patience and a willingness to work hard, are critical to any budding Alchemist." He shook his head. "Were you at Beauxbatons, I would recommend that you apply for the Nicholas Flamel Scholars Program, after your third year, but alas…"

"A Scholars program?" Natsumi echoed, her eyes widening slightly.

"Yes, one funded jointly by myself and the Centre for Alchemical Studies, open to students of Beauxbatons," the Alchemist acknowledged. "Those accepted into it remain at the campus over the summer, where they receive specialized instruction and are encouraged to experiment with potions," Flamel noted. "So far, it has turned out several notable practitioners of the art, though none have proven worthy of becoming a true apprentice…yet."

"Why is it only open to people attending Beauxbatons?" Shinji asked, with the old Alchemist smiling slightly.

"Mostly because one would have to be at Beauxbatons for the program, and instruction is done in French..." Nicholas Flamel responded. "And while languages can be learned…you may not know this, but the Eleven are usually loathe to reveal their locations to any not attending them."

"The…eleven?"

"The schools recognized by the International Confederation of Wizards," the Alchemist supplied. "Each of which usually serves a country or a larger region. Hogwarts is one, as is Beauxbatons. _Mahoutokoro_ , from your homeland, is another."

"Ah…" Shinji noted, nodding. "I see."

"So yes, I'm afraid that unless you go to Beauxbatons, you are not eligible for the program, but as a second-best thing…" The Alchemist went quiet for a moment. "…I suppose that one of my Scholars _is_ here at the Ball. Would you care to meet her? Perhaps she can tell you about her experience."

"If you wouldn't mind, then certainly!" Natsumi exclaimed, with Shinji nodding.

* * *

The man led Natsumi and Shinji over to a corner of the room where a small group of young people were standing, with two of them apparently his age, and one of them...older. This last was a silver-eyed blonde clad in a navy-blue gown, with a sheathed rapier at her waist which somehow reminded him of Amber.

' _Wait…a rapier? Why is she allowed to bring a weapon into the Ball?'_

"Monsieur Matou, Mademoiselle Suzuki, may I present the newest member of the Flamel Scholars program, Rachelle Lestrange," the Alchemist intoned, with the girl in blue curtsying. "I see you have your…rapier with you, as always."

"'Ello," the other spoke, with Shinji suddenly swallowing, finding his mouth dry as she _looked_ at him with an intensity he'd never felt before.

"E- enchanté," the boy murmured, reaching out to take her hand and kiss it, as a gentleman would, only to find her stepping back out of reach. "Um..."

"I do not like...being touched, if zit is all ze same to you, Monsieur le Matou," Lestrange replied, her silver eyes glancing from him to his companion, whose hand he was still holding.

' _Oh. Ah…yes, I can see how there might be a misunderstanding.'_

"...fair enough," Shinji answered, feeling a bit stung by the rejection. "Why do you have a rapier anyway?"

"An heirloom of my family," the young Scholar replied. "Ze Aurors did not deem it a danger, unlike ze wand I surrendered."

Shinji found that logic odd, though he supposed that a mere blade couldn't do much that a wand couldn't fix, unless she outright killed someone, and he didn't think she was the type, even on such short acquaintance.

"Nicholas," Professor Slughorn cut in. "While it certainly is a good thing to pay attention to the younger generation…"

"Ah yes," the Alchemist noted, giving the first-years a wry smile. "Do enjoy your first time at the Minister's Ball. I find that the more power one gains, the more people expect. And well, it would be rude should I not greet my former apprentice." He shook his head as he glanced to Lestrange and then back to the Hogwarts first-years. "Do try not to offend my newest student. She is a good person, but is...prickly at times."

"Prickly?" Shinji echoed.

"Best you find out for yourself," the man finished, nodding to the assembled young people, before following Slughorn's lead, leaving Shinji and Natsumi alone with the other young people at the Ministers Ball.

* * *

While Natsumi's interest was drawn to the Flamel Scholar – with the girl finally letting go of his hand, Shinji thought that he might as well get to know the other two people his age, since they had to be of _some_ importance to be here.

Or perhaps just wealthy, though that meant more or less the same thing, didn't it?

"So I don't think I've met you two before," he noted, turning his attention to the two girls who seemed closer to his age – a blonde and a brunette. "Matou Shinji, at your service," he said with a deep bow.

"Lily de Lune," one of the others – a bespectacled blonde with startling green eyes, dressed in a white gown, embroidered with shimmering shooting stars in silver, which pulsed with every movement she took – replied, her accent not seeming quite like Lestrange's. "A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur le Matou. It is a rare occasion that I meet someone our age at an event such as this, let alone three I did not know before. Truly, it is a cause for celebration."

Shinji glanced at the brunette standing beside her, a girl with rich chocolate-brown eyes, wearing floaty, periwinkle-blue robes, with her hair in an elegant knot at the back of her head. "Then…you did not come together with…"

The brunette shied away from his gaze, looking to the floor.

"Um..." she whispered, her body seeming tense, almost quivering. "I'm...my name is Her-hermia. Hermia C-croft, M-mister Matou," she said, not meeting his eye. "I…my teacher brought me."

Teacher?

And from Miss de Lune's comment, they didn't know each other prior to this evening so…

"And which school do you attend?" the boy asked with as much charm as he could muster, wanting to do what he could to break the shy girl out of her shell. "Durmstrang, maybe?"

But the brunette only shook her head.

"I am…from Britain."

Shinji arched an eyebrow.

"And you don't attend Hogwarts?" the boy inquired, surprised. "I thought—"

"No one is actually required to go to Hogwarts," Lily cut in with a gentle smile. "There are other schools, usually more specialized ones like the Wizarding Academy for the Dramatic Arts. Or of course, one could be privately tutored."

"Ah," the Japanese boy noted. "I hadn't realized."

"Given your comments, you attend Hogwarts, yes, monsieur?" the blonde inquired brightly, with Shinji nodding slowly. "Let me guess...you are...a Hufflepuff, yes?"

"Yes..." the boy admitted, his voice thoughtful. "How did you guess?"

"You seem like you would be one," was the enigmatic response from the spritely blonde. "For one, you are not as impetuous or bold as a Gryffindor, and then there is your accent…and your choices of clothing for the night."

"My…accent?" Shinji echoed. How could she tell his House from his accent…? "And my clothes?"

"You don't have a British accent, so you weren't born on the isle," Miss de Lune pointed out. "It's tempered a bit, but I think you probably just came to Britain at the start of the Hogwarts term."

"You can tell that?!" the boy exclaimed, shocked that someone could pick up on such details.

"Just as I can tell that your clothes are not enchanted, despite their good quality," the girl observed. "A _kimono_ , was it?"

Shinji blinked.

"…how do you know all this?"

"My grandfather is a diplomat, so I have traveled quite widely," the other replied with a sly smile. "Rachelle is similarly well-traveled, being a ward of the Centre for Alchemical Studies."

"Ah…" Shinji noted. "I suppose that's explains your accent, neither British nor French, really."

"Yes, though I confess, I did spend some years in London," Miss de Lune admitted. "Miss Croft is from there, or near enough, actually."

"Oh, really?" Shinji questioned, turning his attention to the brunette, who made a strange 'eep' sound and all but jumped. "Is she normally this shy?" he asked Lily de Lune.

"Not when she was just around me," the bespectacled blonde replied. "Perhaps she simply is not used to boys?"

"…it's possible," Shinji admitted. Natsumi herself had been rather shy when he'd first met her. And if Miss Croft had been trained by a private tutor, he supposed extreme shyness around strangers might actually be a problem she suffered from.

Wanting to get some clues, he casually tried to use his glasses to probe the mind of Miss Croft, only to find that all she was thinking was something like "don't let him notice" – which only made him curious what it was that she didn't want him to notice, since he couldn't see anything too out of place.

' _Did she forget to wear underwear or something? Is her gown torn? Did she spill something?'_

Or was she merely wanting him not to notice how nervous she was, in which case, it was already hopeless.

"Don't be so nervous," he said, reaching out to brush her hair aside, with the girl flinching at his forwardness, and Miss de Lune shaking her head.

"Monsieur le Matou, there's a time and place for such…familiarity, and that is not…here," the bespectacled blonde chided him, with Shinji hanging his head.

"…oh, right. I'm sorry."

"Tis not I you should apologize to."

"Ah," he noted, scratching his head as he turned to Miss Croft and bowed. "I'm very sorry for scaring you."

"I-its fine," she said in a voice that indicated she was anything other than fine. "I just…need a bit of air."

Or perhaps what she needed was a drink, given how the first thing she did after she walked off was to grab a flute of something multicolored and bubbly.

"I guess that it's just us then," Lily murmured, glancing at Matou, and then over at where Natsumi and the Flamel Scholar were conversing. "So what brings you here tonight? Did you want to impress your girlfriend, perhaps?"

"I, uh, she's—she's not my girlfriend," Shinji stammered with a brilliant red flush, as if he'd been burned. "We're just—just friends."

The sly, vulpine smile that Miss de Lune flashed him told him that she'd already known that and had only been teasing him.

"So why did you come then?" she inquired after her fit of levity. "I can't imagine it was just on a whim."

"H-how about you?" Shinji shot back. "Why did you come tonight? And from another country?"

"Accompanying my grandfather, for a certain value of accompanying," the girl replied, her expression somewhat wry.

"He wandered off and left you with others your age?" the Japanese boy asked.

"And Miss Lestrange, who came along with me. He thought that her company would be more amusing to me than meeting the Minister and the Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation again," she said matter-of-factly. "Which it was."

"Ah…then you've met them before?"

"A few times." The girl chuckled. "It is not my first time at one of these, after all."

"…fair enough."

"Speaking of first times, this isn't your first time in Britain, is it?" Miss de Lune commented. "Your English, while accented, it good enough. And given that you would normally be at _Mahoutokoro_ …." One slim, blonde eyebrow quirked upwards. "A parent of yours went to Hogwarts? Your father, perhaps."

"...I have no father," Shinji nearly snarled, before he forced his expression into something approaching neutrality, aware of all the eyes that must be upon him. "My mother. She went to Hogwarts." Not that he really knew much about her, with his only clue as to her personality being the notes she left in the margin of the text on...necromancy.

"Ah, my apologies. I had not realized your parentage was a...delicate topic," Miss de Lune said, not unsympathetically, her fingers brushing his upper arm. "Did you want to speak to Miss Lestrange?" she offered, perhaps aware of how awkward the atmosphere had become. "You companion seems to have monopolized her time. Unusual, since she normally doesn't speak so much."

"You know her well?"

"Well enough, I suppose."

"Then please, lead on," the boy said gallantly.

They walked over to where the young Flamel Scholar and Natsumi had wandered, with both of them enjoying some of the hors d'oeuvres, and discussing somewhat serious topics.

"Zit vas many years ago, and ve vere never...how you say...close," Lestrange was saying as Shinji came into hearing range. "Nevertheless, zankyou."

He casually tried to use his glasses to probe the minds of the girls in front of him, only to find that he could read nothing from Miss de Lune or Miss Lestrange, not even the surface impression he'd obtained from Croft.

 _'What? Lestrange I understand, since Alchemists probably practice some variety of mind arts, but de Lune as well?_ ' He smiled, his expression somewhat brittle as he turned his attention to Lestrange. "I hear you are quite skilled at Alchemy," he interjected verbally, something of a non-sequitur though it made sense to him. "Congratulations on being chosen as a Flamel Scholar."

The silver-eyed blonde regarded him for a moment, seeming to look though him, before nodding.

"I am not up to ze standards set my 'onored ancestors, but one tries, Monsieur," the Flamel Scholar – Lestrange – responded with a nod. "And you? Are you...skilled?"

"I cannot claim any great talent," Shinji admitted. "Unlike my friend here," he said, nodding at Natsumi. "But then, she is one of the most skilled in our year."

"Oh?" Lestrange questioned, her gaze shifting to Natsumi. "Is zat so?"

"Well, not the most skilled," the Hufflepuff girl replied, a hint of red on her cheeks. "There is someone more skilled than I, even if I find the calculations involved in it quite fascinating. And the mental disciplines involved."

Lestrange nodded thoughtfully at that.

"You 'ave learned ze mental disciplines?"

"Yes, from a...friend from Egypt," Natsumi related fondly. "She's the one I was speaking of, to whom potions and such comes...effortlessly."

"Effortlessly?"

"Yes. I wonder sometimes, if I'm really helping, or if I'm holding her back, since she seems so far away from all of us."

"Far away...?" Lestrange repeated.

"Like she's far in the distance, and it's hard for her to remember that we're not where she is yet. Her thoughts...racing ahead, on many paths when we have yet to begin on one."

The Flamel Scholar seemed to go still for a moment, a curious expression on her face as she considered the young girl before her – a girl flushing from the attention given to her by a pretty older girl.

"...it is...true zat such learning may...separate one from one's...colleagues. Shall we speak some more of l'Alchemie?"

"I'd like that," Natsumi said with a smile, with the two walking off, not even noticing that Shinji had come close.

"Well… _that_ was something," Shinji remarked. "It was like they were in their own world."

"…alchemists can be like that," Miss de Lune mused aloud, her lips curved into a curious smile. "There are enough of them at Beauxbatons, after all." She chuckled. "In any case, it seems that both your companion and mine have found more interesting conversation partners," the green-eyed blonde commented wryly. "How unfortunate it is, that I be left bereft of civilized company in a strange land."

"Oh, that's nonsense," Shinji rejoined, giving the girl a charming smile. "After all, how can I consider myself unfortunate when I yet have the pleasure of your company?"

But Miss de Lune only chuckled.

"Ah, but Monsieur, I did not say you were unfortunate, merely I."

Shinji blinked.

"...are...are you calling me _uncivilized_?" the boy squawked, taken aback by the comment. "Why—"

"Duels of wits and words are common at Beauxbatons," the other commented as she stepped closer to him, offering him her hand. "The school may call itself 'beautiful wands', and it may teach its students the art of the duel, but it is rare that any dispute is settled by such...crass measures."

"Huh. So, instead you...try to prove yourself superior through words?" He looked down at her hand, wondering what the girl wanted from him.

"Words and gestures, yes," Miss de Lune agreed, shaking her head, her lips quirking ever so slightly. "And since you are an uncivilized boor who doesn't seem to understand what isn't spelled out for you, I'm asking you to dance."

"Um...uh...why me?" Shinji asked, looking around. He'd barely met his girl and she wanted to dance with him? "Really..."

"Do you see any others our age about?" she asked archly, to which Shinji...did not, only much older men and women, except for Croft, who was off in the distance, talking to…Quirrell? _'Huh. But I thought…'_ "Well, then, unless you'd like to stand around..." she pressed, interrupting his thoughts.

"I guess…" Shinji hazarded, accepting her hand and allowing himself to be led off to the unoccupied dance floor, though he still felt uneasy. "...so what kind of dance is this?"

"A simple waltz," she commented, only to pause at the blank look on the boy's face. "Surely you know it...?"

"...um..."

Miss de Lune had to suppress a sigh.

"...then let me show you."

Reluctantly – very reluctantly – he agreed, with the girl showing him the steps slowly, and he trying to ignore the fact that everyone seemed to be watching them, as they were the only couple on the dance floor.

"Do you...uh...do this often at Beauxbatons?" he asked, in an attempt to distract himself from the gazes of the people.

"Sometimes. Not as often as I would like, though we have a class in it," she replied. "And you do not at all?"

"...no," Shinji answered, trying not to step on her feet, and even succeeding to a degree. "Why would I?"

"And you wonder why I say you are uncivilized," she whispered in his ear, with the closeness of her making him go red.

As they danced, they spoke of many things.

Of Beauxbatons, where she was a first-year.

Of Hogwarts, which she seemed to know a surprising amount about.

Of how she was an orphan, with her parents having died when she was young.

Of how his mother had died when he was young, and how he had never really known his father.

Of how they had both been raised by their grandfathers.

And then, at very stroke of midnight, as the old year died, and one by one, couples around them kissed to commemorate the birth of a new one, she leaned close to him and whispered a secret for his ears alone.

"Actually, my name isn't Lily de Lune," the girl told him, her breath hot against his skin as she pulled back.

"Wha…t?" he asked, his arms instinctively tightening around her to keep her from escaping. "Then what is it?"

"You'll know if you figure out who my grandfather is," she murmured impishly. "I'll even give you a hint. His first name is Leonard, and he too was once a Minister."

"…Spencer-Moon?" he said dumbly, his arms week as he staggered, his mind reeling from the revelation. "Wait…you're…Lily… _Liliana Spencer-Moon?"_ More to the point, Liliana Spencer-Moon was a real person, not just someone Selina had made up?

'… _is Lady Selina a_ seer _or something? How much research did she do?'_

"The one and only," Liliana commented as she stepped back and curtsied. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur le Matou. Perhaps, should you come to Beauxbatons, we will meet again."

She darted forward, leaned in…and then she was gone, with the boy numbly brushing his fingers against the cheek where – just for a moment – her lips had touched.


	37. Hatsuyume

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 36.** _Hatsuyume_

That night Matou Shinji dreamed, and in the dream, he found himself sitting on a magic carpet, with a slender figure nestled against him as they looked on a world of shining, shimmering splendor, as silver moonlight, streaming a gap in the clouds, played first across the white snowcaps and black crevices of the mountains, and then over the walls and spires of an alabaster castle nestled among them.

"It's beautiful," the boy found himself saying as he took in the magnificent vista, unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

Where was he? What was he seeing?

The castle before him wasn't Hogwarts, that was for sure, given where it was, and the many twinkling lights playing across its grounds, with the centerpiece of it being a magnificent fountain.

"I'm glad," the other murmured beside him, with the boy turning to find her looking at him out of the corner of her eyes, her features somehow familiar, yet alien in the moonlight. "But tell me, what do you seek?"

"I..." That was a good question. What did he seek? Self-control? Fame? Power? "Well...friends, I guess," he said after a while. "Connections. Something...genuine." He smiled slightly. "Is that really so much to ask?"

"Then...where do you seek it?" the other asked him, as she leaned back against him and his arms went around her, the warmth and softness of her making him swallow.

"...everywhere, I guess," he replied, shaking his head. "Shouldn't I keep an open mind, instead of just dismissing what might be?"

"...then why do you hate me, _Nii-san_?" the girl asked, turning to look at him directly for the first time, with Shinji recognizing that the person he was holding in his arms, nestled against him was...

 _'No...'_

"If you want something genuine, Nii-san, why won't you accept _me_?"

'No.'

The girl twisted, leaning up towards him, with the boy paralyzed - unable to act.

"You throw yourself at anyone else who gives you even a scrap of kindness, so why won't you love me, Nii-san?" she whispered against his lips.

"No...don't..." the boy pleaded, feeling like he was about to throw up

"Don't what?" she asked coyly, her body rubbing against him as she leaned over and licked his lips. "Don't do this?"

"No…I…"

"Or did you mean… _this…?"_

And then Matou Sakura closed the distance and sealed her brother's lips with hers.

 _ **NOOOOOOOO!**_

Somehow, he found the strength to push her away, to push her off of him - to push her off the carpet, where her form shifted, the face and figure of his sister fading away to reveal...

 _ **"SENPAI!"**_

...that of Tsuji Miyuki, falling to her doom, with him powerless to save her.

* * *

Once again, Matou Shinji was torn from his dreams, but this time, he wasn't screaming. How could he be, when he couldn't even breathe? When his chest felt like something was trying to crush his heart, when everything felt cold, so cold. If that...even if that was a dream...if that was his first dream of the year, then...what did that mean?

Still, even in the coldness, there was a spot of warmth, with the boy looking over to see what could only be an older Matou Sakura, curled against him, not a stitch of fabric on her body, though in the moonlight he could see how her skin glistened with fluids of a dubious nature.

She was looking at him with her deep purple eyes, as her hand…her fingers…they…

"Nii-san..." she whispered against his skin, as her fingers played with…played with— "No. Shujin-sama…"

 _ **No.**_

"Love me?" the girl murmured, tossing her hair and moving languidly to straddle him, with him powerless to resist, as if she'd paralyzed him with her prana. "Instead of that senpai who left you."

 _ **No.**_

"I'll make you feel good, danna-sama…" Sakura said with a wicked smile. "Good enough to forget all about everything. Even _senpai_."

She plunged her hips downward, engulfing him in warmth as—

 _ **NONONONONONONONONONO!**_

Every ounce of restraint he had vanished, as power exploded forth from his body, rage, terror, hatred all made manifest in roaring black flames that engulfed the world, making the hated form of his _sister_ _ **scream**_ as she burned.

And through it all, the boy only laughed.

He laughed at the scent of burning flesh.

He laughed as wood and fabric caught flame.

He laughed as she begged, _begged_ for mercy.

He laughed as the _usurper,_ the thief _found herself no longer able to beg, to plead, to whimper, as her skin blackened and burned away, revealing flesh and bone, before those too, were burned to ash._

And even when everything was gone, when there was nothing left to burn, with the fire burning out, leaving him alone amidst a scene of desolation, he laughed, and laughed, and _laughed_.

* * *

It was to that very scene that the boy opened his eyes as he woke, finding himself standing in the middle of a burned-out husk of a room. The bed with its luxurious draperies and sheets had been charred to nothing. The walls and tapestries were in ruins.

The very windows had exploded outwards, with the cold winter air howling in from the outside, the wind on bare skin contrasting with the white-hot numbness at his ankle.

' _Huh.'_

Blinking, he looked down, finding that his clothes were gone, that his skin was blistered and raw, and that the anklet he'd worn around his ankle – the one which normally suppressed emotional extremes – had _melted_ , with rivulets of metal eating into his blackened left foot.

A left foot, that alone, out of the rest of his body, didn't hurt, didn't feel like his nerves had been replaced by molten lead, though the damage was far worse than anywhere else on him.

' _That's bad, isn't it?'_ he thought numbly.

But he didn't have long to think, as there was a gasp from the doorway – through a door which had been charred through – with the boy looking up to see a pale-faced Natsumi peering through one of the great gashes in what had once been solid mahogany, her eyes wide with shock and not a little fear as she saw the ruin amidst which her friend stood.

...the devastation he had wrought in his sleep.

* * *

"Matou-kun!" Natsumi called out, her voice faint as she saw Shinji just standing in the middle of the destruction, looking utterly lost, his skin all but glowing in the pale moonlight.

She tried the doorknob, only to gasp as _the entire door_ fell inwards, crashing to the ground at the slightest touch.

"M-matou-kun?" she said, more quietly as she stepped inside.

But the boy said nothing, just staring at a fixed point before him, as if he hadn't noticed her at all. Hadn't noticed the chill. Hadn't noticed anything.

Her concern overriding her fear, she moved deeper into the room, stepping gingerly over unrecognizable lumps of charred wood and bits of what looked like melted glass, until at last she finally reached his side.

Her cheeks heated as she noted Matou's state of undress, yet even so, she reached out to touch him—

And found that his skin was ice cold and clammy.

"Matou-kun!" she called out, but there was no answer, as if he didn't…wasn't seeing her, wasn't aware of anything. As if the boy who she called her best friend had disappeared, leaving only a lifeless doll of flesh in his place. "Matou…k-kun?" the girl stammered, before taking a deep breath and reaching into her pocket and taking out a vial of shimmering green-gold, as a conversation from some time ago came to mind.

" _Matou Shinji is an intriguing, if unstable existence, Suzuki,"_ Sokaris had told her in the Hufflepuff Common Room early in the morning, before the sun had even begun to rise.

The Ravenclaw had arrived only minutes earlier, carrying with her the unconscious body of the boy in question – the boy who had run out of the Great Hall after receiving a package from…from the father he refused to acknowledge, a package which had apparently contained a book on practical necromancy and a wand of willow.

The look on his face…

… _boundless anger, despair, hopelessness…_

…it had been the look of someone who was utterly lost.

Worried, Natsumi had looked around the castle for him, checking the library, the unused classrooms, even asking the Aurors guarding the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets if she'd seen him. Eventually, after all but giving up, she'd turned to Sokaris, asking the brilliant Ravenclaw to find him before something happened.

…and somehow, Sokaris had, returning him to Hufflepuff before the new day dawned.

But the purple-haired Alchemist had done so with a warning.

" _Within him lies a dangerous power, one which will one day destroy him, if he does not learn to control it."_

" _A power?"_

" _An obscurus."_

" _What."_ She knew what an obscurus was, of course – how could she not, after the term had been mentioned time after time in the course of Quirrell's scenarios, but…Matou-kun? _"How…?"_

" _It is not my place to say,"_ the Alchemist had rebuked her. _"Nor is it mine to judge. I simply offer you a warning, as you are his…"_ She'd paused. _"…friend,"_ Sokaris had said at last, as if the word was an unfamiliar one.

"… _what can I do?"_

The Ravenclaw had pressed a vial of green-gold into her hands, saying only that if Matou went too far, this _might_ be able to save him, if she reached him in time.

" _Did you…"_

" _Yes."_

" _Can I ask—"_

" _It would be unwise of me to answer."_

Which Natsumi had accepted, as there were many mysteries about Sialim Sokaris, and whatever else she'd done, she _had_ found Matou.

" _Thank you,"_ she'd offered, bowing deeply to the other girl.

" _There is no need,"_ the Alchemist had dismissed. " _Being able to see something interesting is payment enough_ _for my efforts_."

Remembering what Sokaris had said, she unstopped the green-gold vial and tried to offer it to the boy, though he didn't seem aware enough to swallow or drink.

The girl sighed.

"I guess…I don't have a choice," she murmured to herself, pouring the vial into her mouth and then pulling the boy backwards so she could seal his mouth with hers – forcing him to swallow the medicine in the way people did in the movies sometimes.

* * *

Matou Shinji shivered, shuddered, quaked and thrashed, inhuman sounds tearing their way out of his throat as he grabbed at first, empty space, then the pajamas that Natsumi wore, as a powerful heat erupted into existence under his skin.

His body…his body felt like a furnace as his skin _regrew_ itself, beats of metal being displaced as his burns were simply…undone, with him returning to awareness to find Natsumi kissing him, her face beet red as her tongue twined with his, her hands on his bare skin.

Panicking, he pulled away, only to yelp as he lost his balance – and in trying to grab onto her for stability, ended up pulling her down on top of him, with the two ending up in an awkward tangle of limbs.

"Oww…"

"Wh-what? Why?" Shinji asked, unable to help himself. "Why did you…?"

"You would have died!" his best friend responded, pushing herself up, with the boy freezing up at her words. He…he would have? "Your power…it would have killed you."

"You…you know?" the boy said numbly, his heart pounding in his chest. She knew…she knew he was…he was capable of this.

"...I already knew," the brunette commented, with Shinji's face a mix between being flabbergasted, shocked and...a bit happy that she hadn't abandoned him.

"Then…why…?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you here? Why aren't you afraid?" he demanded. After the destruction he'd wrought in his own home because of…because of a stupid, _terrible_ dream, why hadn't Natsumi run from what was obviously a monster.

"Because you were hurting, Matou-kun."

The boy found himself at a total loss. Because he was hurting? That was why she hadn't run away? Why she had…why she had… _kissed_ him, and somehow fixed his shattered body?

"But…"

"We're friends, Matou-kun," came the response. "Even if you're an obscurial. Even if you have your secrets. Even if you sometimes try to push people away."

"H-how?" he squeaked, now keenly aware of how he was next to naked in front of his best friend. His very female best friend, who was wearing only silk pajamas.

"Sokaris" was the answer Natsumi gave, with the boy's eyes widening as he heard the name. "When I…when I kissed you, I was giving you a potion. One that she gave me, in case you ever…"

"…in case I ever…" he prompted

"In case you ever...went too far. Again," Natsumi supplied, with the boy swallowing.

Again, huh? So he'd done this before, just perhaps hadn't remembered it?

No, more importantly…

"What is it? The potion, I mean."

"Sokaris said it was something like a Curse of Restoration," Natsumi explained, with the boy going very still at that particular turn of phrase. "That it didn't heal as much as...I think she said something about undoing an injury?"

"...um...she...uh...didn't say anything about it working better when the moon was full or anything, did she?" the boy asked nervously. He was joking – half-joking, really, though his smile froze when Natsumi blinked.

"She did, actually," the girl admitted, tilting her head, as if curious. "Why?"

Matou Shinji had never considered himself particularly insightful or perceptive, but everything he was hearing was ringing alarm bells in his mind.

The Curse of Restoration? Undoing an injury, not healing it? Working better when the moon was full?

...well, first, that sounded like fairly sophisticated work. Not a first year's.

Second, while he doubted Sokaris' skills were limited to those of a first year, the Curse of Restoration wasn't the domain of anything human.

Indeed, in all of his reading, only the Dead Apostles (and their ilk) possessed that kind of ability.

For Sokaris to use the terminology that she had…

 _'It's like she's done research on Dead Apostles, when none of the books I've seen at Hogwarts so much as mention them.'_ Other, lesser, vampires, yes, but not those.

Or perhaps it meant that she _was_ a Dead Apostle, but then he didn't think anyone had been turned into a thrall, so…perhaps not?

…though, now that he thought about it, he'd heard some whispers about a number of unicorns around the school being slaughtered and drained of blood, with part of the Forbidden Forest simply _gone_ , as if it had been erased by some immense force of destruction, so…

' _Was that…Sokaris?'_

If it was – if by chance, _she_ was some inhuman monster with some odd reason for being at Hogwarts, then his course was clear: he would brew himself a Forgetfulness Potion, and use it to erase any memory of the revelation from his mind, so he wouldn't accidentally reveal something he shouldn't.

After all, antagonizing someone who might possess that level of power was…unwise, to put it lightly.

'… _though now that I have this piece of information, my…other form's utter refusal to even consider hurting her makes a lot more sense.'_

Beasts backed down in the face of a superior predator, after all – and for someone like him to confront a Dead Apostle was…

…well, suicide.

' _And I don't want to die.'_

Which was why he wasn't going to share his suspicions with anyone, aside from the fact that she'd indirectly saved his life tonight. Well, thatand the fact that he didn't want to cause more trouble for his friends – or for Miyuki-senpai – than he already had with all of his troubles.

"Something on your mind?" Natsumi's voice cut in, derailing his train of thought from these dangerous thoughts.

"I…"

The words spilled out, one after another. His relationship with his family, such that it was. His terrifying grandfather. His mother, who had died when he was very young. His… _THAT MAN_ who had betrayed him, kept his birthright from him. The _usurper_ that his grandfather had adopted.

The fact that he was an Obscurial.

One with anger issues. One whose dreams tended to be cruel things indeed.

"I could hurt you, you know. One day."

"You won't," Natsumi said with confidence.

"How do you know…? Just…look what I did to this room," he grunted, gesturing at the destruction all around him. "One day…one day I might—"

"You didn't hurt Sokaris," the girl pointed out, with Shinji grimacing.

No…he supposed he hadn't, though he was beginning to think his reason to staying his hand from trying to slay both her and Granger was for reasons other than human decency.

"I—"

"Or senpai."

"…you…you…uh…know about that?" he whispered, deflating, bowing his head as his entire body flushed red, so red that it was obvious, even when he was drenched in moonlight.

"I do. I asked _senpai_ about things after…Sokaris told me about you," Natsumi confessed, with the boy not sure what to think about that. "She told me you thought you were a monster, even though you weren't."

"But…but I…"

"Would I give a monster my second kiss?" the girl asked, with Shinji frowning.

"No," he responded, but paused as the words she said began to sink in. "Wait, what do you mean your _second_ kiss?" She…she hadn't met any boys before this year, and he didn't think there was anyone else she was close to, so who else could she have kissed?

Ernie? No…Ernie liked Selina.

Phelan? No…the two detested each other.

"Teehee," Natsumi giggled as she got to her feet, reaching down to offer him a hand. "That's a secret."

"…now you're just teasing me," the boy complained, accepting the help.

"Well, that's what friends do. At least sometimes."

The boy sighed, a snort escaping him despite himself.

A snort that turned into a chuckle, which turned into a fully belly laugh, the sound – and the warmth of his best friend's hand – washing away the unpleasant sensations of a too-disturbing dream, as they walked together, out of the destruction.


	38. The Morning After

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 37.** _The Morning After_

When Matou Shinji awoke, his first thought was that he was looking up at a rather unfamiliar ceiling. His second thought, once he realized that what he was seeing wasn't the ceiling, but Natsumi's sleeping face, with his head resting on her lap, was a profound sense of shame and embarrassment as he remembered what he'd done to his room the night before – all because of a dream – and how she had…she had saved him.

' _By kissing me,'_ he recalled, every bit of skin flushing beet red as he recalled the sensation of her lips on his, even as he breathed in the scent of her all around him.

It…well, it obviously hadn't been her first kiss. She'd admitted as much, though even if she hadn't, the way she'd left him breathless had basically spoken for itself.

And in the wake of it, even after seeing what he had done, she'd taken him to the living room and made him lie down on the couch, saying he needed sleep. When he'd asked what she would do, she'd said that she would stay with him through the night in case he had another nightmare, since she didn't think he should be alone.

He'd protested that the couch wasn't big enough for two people to lie down, but she'd simply told him that she wouldn't be lying down, that she'd be sitting.

He'd protested that sitting and sleeping couldn't be comfortable, but she'd replied that it had to be better than nearly dying or not sleeping at all.

He'd protested that he might…might _dream_ again, might end up releasing the power that slept inside him, leading to her being hurt – or worse – but she'd denied that, saying that she trusted him, and knew he'd never harm her.

" _Besides, I know a charm that will keep bad dreams away,"_ she'd said mischievously, as she'd had him lay his head on her lap. Between that and the warmth of her fingers running through his hair and gently brushing his scalp, something which no one had done for him since…

' _Since mother died. No, not died. Was eaten – by the worms.'_

…the boy had indeed had no nightmares.

Indeed, his dream had been about the furthest thing from that he could imagine, which was odd, since the only real change was that instead of his… _sister_ being there, Natsumi had been in it.

And Amber.

And Miyuki-senpai.

Even now, with the dream fading away as reality reasserted itself, bits of what happened were burned into his mind.

The touch of skin on skin, of lips on lip and…other parts.

The smell of sweat, perfume and musk, blending together in a heady mix that caused the loins to stir and the heart to race.

The taste of…

…well, lips and… _lips_ , and other things.

The sound of whimpers, gasps, sighs.

All these together flashed through his mind, a memory of forbidden delight bubbling up to the surface…until it was rudely banished by the realization that he was…he was only wearing his drawers, with the wet spot on them and the peculiar odor emanating from it making it quite obvious what he had…what he had dreamed.

Thinking to perhaps get up and uh…get rid of the evidence of his…nocturnal exuberance, the boy raised his head – tried to, as part of the first step of getting to his feet, save that him lifting his weight off of her thighs was movement enough to cause Natsumi to stir from her dreams. Shinji could only watch as the girl yawned, her shoulders twisting and her back arching in an achingly familiar way.

…in the way it had in a scene in his dream.

"G-good morning, Nats," he squeaked, as she looked down on him with a lazy smile.

"Good morning, Matou," she murmured sleepily, her finger sliding idly from the boy's head to the nape of his neck, making him shiver. "Sleep better?"

"T-thanks to you," Matou Shinji managed to stammer, with the poor boy finding himself uncomfortably _aware_ that his friend was…was a girl. A girl who he found, well…pretty. "I'm, uh, I'mgoingtogotakeashower. Seeyouatbreakfast?" he forced out, speaking as quickly as his heart was pounding, as he rolled to his feet and all but fled the room, with Natsumi's eyes following him.

"At Exton Hall!" she called out, just loud enough that he stilled and nodded, before continuing out of sight.

* * *

By the time he had taken a (cold) shower, cleaned himself up, changed into warm clothes, left the house, and walked through the cold for 20 minutes to reach Exton Hall, Matou Shinji's raging hormones had loosened their grip on his mind. They hadn't relinquished their hold completely, but had loosened it enough so that when he walked up to Phelan, Amber, and Natsumi at the breakfast table, his physiology didn't…inadvertently embarrass him.

"Good morning, Matou!" Phelan greeted him boisterously, patting the seat beside him – across from Amber and Natsumi. "Come, join me, and we can speak of manly things while Amber and Nats talk about…girl stuff. Like the Ball."

Shinji winced, but moved to do as the earl's son suggested, as sitting next to Natsumi or Amber sounded like a bad idea, especially as he couldn't even look at them properly without going very, very red.

...something that he was sure neither of the girls had missed.

' _Oh well, at least here I don't have to deal with Rumpy,'_ he thought to himself as Phelan chatted at him about how it had been to spend the Eve with the Weasleys, and how shocked, just _utterly shocked_ to see Shinji in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning.

"Wha…the _Prophet?_ " Shinji repeated.

"Yeah, they had a picture of you and Nats in it. You two looked fancy," the young Gryffindor offered. "And then there was one with you dancing with someone else?"

Amber looked up from her conversation at Phelan's remark.

"Ah, yes, Nats was just telling me about that," the copper-haired girl added. "For future reference, Matou, you really should pay more attention to your date," the copper-haired girl chided him. "Instead of being so lost in Miss de Lune's eyes that you didn't even notice Granger was nearby."

Shinji blinked.

"What? What do you mean Granger?" the Japanese boy asked, confused. Looking back through his memories of the evening, he didn't remembering encountering anyone who could have been Granger. Well, maybe Croft, but that was impossible unless Granger had become ten times prettier and ten times less of a…

"Oh...you didn't notice, Matou-kun?" Natsumi questioned, her expression full of concern as she glanced at him. "Granger was calling herself Croft for some reason. She seemed…unhappy you were there. She was even shaking in anger."

Huh.

"Oh. That…that was anger?" the boy questioned, feeling utterly out of his depth. "I thought maybe she was just shy. That she wasn't used to boys, like you were when I met you."

Amber and Natsumi just shared a _look,_ with Shinji feeling like he'd missed something obvious.

"And how could be Granger anyway? She and Croft don't look anything alike," he protested, whereupon both the two old friends just sighed. "I mean, her hair was straight. Her skin was clear. Her face…" …wasn't frozen in a rictus of fear or an angry snarl.

"It isn't that hard to straighten your hair with a potion," Natsumi commented. "I think that's one of the more common ones they sell, actually."

"What about…what about her dress?" Shinji added, grasping at straws. "She's never worn anything like that. Why would Granger even own something that pretty?"

Amber gave her oldest friend a sidelong glance.

"Boys can be dense, can't they?" she asked, choosing to ignore Shinji's sputtering protests.

"Mhm. Denser than a neutron star," Natsumi responded, her gaze flicking over to Matou for a heartbeat.

"Heh. That's pretty dense," the copper-haired girl commented with a lopsided smile.

Unwilling to hear more talk about the density of boys, Phelan cleared his throat.

"So. Matou," he interrupted, much to the ire of the two girls at the table. "I know you and Amber have that whole gala thing at the Albert and Victoria today, but that's not until this afternoon, right?"

There was silence for nearly a minute before…

"…right," Shinji agreed reluctantly, wondering why Phelan had changed the topic.

"Well then, it occurs to me that I've been a bit remiss about my duties as a host," the earl's son declared grandly. "I know Amber is probably going to head over to the gala early, since she wants to say thank you to Nats' family, but well…you've been a guest here for almost all of the winter holiday, and you haven't even explored the grounds yet." The young noble smiled roguishly. "Say, why don't you join me for a bit of an adventure? Probably more exciting than watching girls talk among themselves about fashion and…boys."

"I…" the boy glanced over at Natsumi, only to look down as he felt himself turning red. Maybe he should go with Phelan, spend a bit of time away. Maybe that would help keep him from embarrassing himself tonight. "…why not?" he responded.

Phelan visibly lit up as Shinji agreed, apparently not having expected it at all, while Natsumi just shot the earl's son a glare full of disdain.

"Brilliant!" the earl's son says with some satisfaction, letting the brunette's ire flow around him like water off a duck's back. "I'm sure you've been spending enough time with Nats and my sister lately anyway, what with the shopping, the balls, and all!" The boy rubbed his hands. "Though to think you wouldn't recognize Granger."

Shinji grunted.

"Look, I don't think you would have recognized her either."

"Maaaaybe," Phelan drawled, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe not. She's the memorable sort of crazy, you know?"

"Well, crazy, yes," Shinji remarked. "Memorable…ehh."

"Well, be that as it may, I had a couple things in mind for today."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Oh, horseback riding, visiting the ruins of the old estate, maybe even exploring the old ironstone mine if we have time," the earl's son said as he rubbed his hands. "Though I'd guess we only have time for one of them."

"…not horseback riding, please," Shinji requested. "From what your sister tells me, the first time is the worst."

"You haven't ridden before?"

"No. And I'd rather not have my first time be before a gala."

"That's…well, that's fair," Phelan allowed reasonably. "How about the mine then?"

"I'd rather not fall into a bottomless pit and plunge to my death. By accident or otherwise."

"Hey! I wouldn't push you into a hole or something just because you like my sister."

"…you'd find another reason?"

"Yeah, that's…" the earl's son clammed up as he realized what he'd just said. "Um, let's not do the mine today then." He narrowed his eyes. "And you didn't deny that you like my sister just now."

"…um, uh…that is… _can we please change the topic_?" Shinji asked uncomfortably.

"Heh. You don't mind going through some ruins then, I hope?" Phelan offered, seeming relieved as Shinji nodded. "Good, good. I can hardly wait," the boy added with relish. "Now that we're wizards, we can even see if it's haunted."

Shinji nearly dropped the saltshaker he'd just picked up.

"Haunted?"

"Well, even if it is, it should be safe, right? It's morning, not the middle of the night. What could possibly go wrong?"

"…for once, brother of mine, could you stop tempting fate?" Amber cut in, shaking her head. "And if you could avoid getting called in by the authorities for using your magic out of school, that would be good too."

"Fine, fine, ruin all the fun, will you sis," Phelan grumbled. "If it makes you feel better, I'll invite a couple of others over to keep me out of trouble."

"…I don't know if it would be them keeping you out of trouble, or you dragging them into it, but it _would_ make me feel better," Amber replied.

"And is that fine with you, Matou?"

"Oh, right, sure," Shinji said, not really caring either way. Though now that he thought about it, maybe other people would help to distract him. "Who did you have in mind? Selina?"

This time, it was Phelan's ears which heated up as the boy turned away.

"N-no, of course not," the young noble replied, his denials ringing hollow to everyone who heard them. "Why would you even think such a thing? She can't exactly Floo over directly so it would be too troublesome."

"Meaning you considered it," Amber said dryly.

"That you were thinking about it?" Natsumi added.

Phelan coughed.

"Um, look, whether or not I did, it isn't really your business, is it, _sister_?" the young Gryffindor replied with just a hint more venom than was necessary.

"I suppose not," Amber allowed after a beat, turning to her best friend. "Well then, come along Natsumi, we have to be headed back to London soon. Matou, you don't mind if we use your Floo, do you?"

"Um, no. Go ahead," he offered, with the copper-haired girl flashing him a grateful smile that left his knees weak.

' _It's a good thing I'm sitting down right now…'_

Sitting down and in just the right seat to watch the girls walk away, leaving Phelan and Shinji to their own devices.

"If you're _quite_ done staring at my sister," Phelan commented archly, his words breaking the Japanese boy out of what felt like a trance. "Right, well, I was thinking of inviting Ronald Weasley and our good friend Ernie. A good balanced party - two Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs, wouldn't you say?"

"Erm..."

"Or did you have someone else to suggest?"

"…no, I don't. I just wondered what you meant about a balanced party," the Japanese boy replied. "We're not playing _Lords of Swinverrucas_ , you know, where you have to worry about classes, roles and all that business."

"Well, maybe not, but even so, you know? You have Ernie and me, who like to charge in. And then you and Ronald like to hang back, offer support. Not a bad setup if there's a troll or something."

"…for your sake, Noel, there had better not be a troll."

"What, don't tell me you'd leave me to my doom," Phelan joked. "After all, fortune favors the bold."

"Yes, but he who turns and runs away, lives to run another day," Shinji quipped drolly.

"…heh." Phelan couldn't stop himself from chuckling at the other boy's words. "Is that _really_ what they teach you in Hufflepuff?"

"No. They just tell us the secret of success for…adventures around Hogwarts."

"Oh?" the earl's son questioned, leaning closer. "And what, praytell, might that be?"

"Don't get caught," Shinji offered flatly.

"Heh. Well, a bit too late these days, isn't it?"

"Perhaps. At least we didn't get in trouble for…you know."

"…yeah," Phelan agreed, looking away, his expression slipping. "That's true. Thanks."

"For what?"

"…for whatever you did to keep us from getting expelled, after…you know."

"Anytime. We're friends, right?"

"…right, though I still don't see what you see in my sister. Or what she sees in you," the earl's son grumbled. "Anyway," Phelan said, changing the topic, "you haven't been to the Weasley House before, right?"

Shinji shook his head.

"Would you like to meet all of them? They're quite a fascinating bunch, and that Lovegood girl might be there too, with her talk of magical creatures and all." Phelan frowned slightly. "Or else, if you don't want to, you could go visit Ernie, and invite him instead. He might accept your invitation more readily than mine." The young noble's expression grew contemplative. "For some reason, he's been avoiding me over the past month or so. Can't imagine why, though."

"...right. Can't imagine."

Given how tired he was from the Ball and his...dream the night before, Shinji didn't especially want to be around a bunch of people who would no doubt be jolly from their unseemly celebrations of the New Year. To be honest, if it were up to him, he wouldn't mind going for Hatsumode – the first Shrine visit of the year – with Natsumi, but according to her, there were no Shinto shrines in all of the United Kingdom.

 _'How to say...Bollocks to that.'_

"Right, so, which will it be?"

"I'll go visit Macmillan," he told the earl's son, given that he had an idea for why the other might be avoid Phelan. Well, two ideas, really – one being that they both liked Selina in _that_ way, and the other being that Ernie probably still held a bit of a grudge over what had happened during the Chamber of Secrets incident.

"Brilliant! We'll meet back at your house afterwards?" Phelan confirmed. "You don't mind, right?"

"That would be the obvious place, yes," Shinji said dryly. "I'll let Rumpy know to serve refreshments. Within reason."

"And what—"

"And before you ask, Miss Black already drank all the Firewhiskey. Something about her fiancée driving her to the bottle," Shinji added, with the earl's son looking rather sad as he heard this.

"I see. That's right...she's...Malfoy..." Phelan sighed, shaking his head as he mustered a weak smile. "She doesn't seem happy."

"Maybe not, but it's not like we can do anything about it," the Japanese boy replied sympathetically, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Let's just go and get the others, hm?"

And so they go, heading back to Shinji's cottage, with each of them Floo-ing to their chosen destination, Phelan off to the Weasleys, and Shinji off to the Macmillan household, where the boy discovered, much to his amusement, that Ernie was very much NOT a morning person, especially during the holidays.

* * *

"What do you want, Mal-Matou?" the blond asked Shinji, after being informed by the family house-elf that he had a visitor. "What are you even doing here so early? It's..." the boy tried – and failed – to stifle a yawn. "What's going on? Did Noel get himself killed looking for the Cursed Vaults or something?"

"...Cursed Vaults?" Shinji asked. These Cursed Vaults had piqued his interest.

"Eh, that's all...there are a load of places at Hogwarts no one knows about," the other Hufflepuff said dismissively. "The Chamber we found, the Vaults that Black was involved with...who knows? Maybe there's an entire underground wing where someone is hiding the Philosopher's Stone or something. At this rate, nothing would surprise me anymore." He yawned again. "Hopefully the Aurors looking around the castle after we found the Chamber make sure there isn't anything dangerous, like a passageway for trolls, or something."

"...well, let's...ha ha...hope not." Shinji's laugh was a bit nervous, but Ernie, being quite drowsy still, didn't catch it, grunting instead.

"Right, so what did you want?" Ernie grumbled. "Are you throwing another party tonight, with..." the boy stumbled over his words, which Shinji noted was rather unlike him. "With um, Lady Selina?"

"Ah, no, sadly," the Japanese boy replied, raising an eyebrow as his friend seemed to deflate. "I uh, wanted to invite you to explore the grounds of the Noel estate. There's a ruin there that..."

Ernie groaned, clapping his hand over his eyes – perhaps a touch overdramatically, Shinji thought.

"...Phelan put you up to this, didn't he?" the other Hufflepuff realized, putting his face in his hands.

"Well, he _did_ suggest inviting you, but it's not like I don't want you around," Shinji said defensively. "He's also bringing Ronald Weasley, I think, so that Weasley can keep him out of trouble as the voice of reason."

Ernie's laugh was something between a bark and a strangled yelp.

"...you...you think a Weasley will be..." the boy fell over in a fit of hysterical laughter - into a chair his house-elf had moved for him.

 _'Right handy, that.'_

Shinji, not seeing the humor, just waited.

"Oh, right, sorry, you don't..." Ernie sighed, shaking his head. "Look, there have been Weasleys at Hogwarts for years, and they're always getting in trouble. Well, except for that Percy prat who is a prefect and just makes trouble for everyone else. I...what I'm trying to say is that expecting a Weasley to be the reasonable one is, uh..."

"...well, when the other person is Phelan..."

The blond Hufflepuff winced.

"...you...you might have a point, and do I need to say how utterly bonkers that is?" Ernie asked, groaning again. "Look uh, why don't you join me and some of the other Hufflepuffs for breakfast. After seeing you in the Prophet in that...robe of yours, and learning you were the Shinji I was friends with, they err...had some questions. If you do that, then sure, I'll go. After I freshen up. And eat. And mentally prepare myself."

"Well, as long as you don't expect me to cook, since I pretty much burn water," Shinji joked. Only it wasn't really a joke, since if he tried to cook, he'd probably end up doing just that.

"Cook?" Ernie asked blankly. "Why would you need to – that's what house-elves are for!" the blond Hufflepuff stated, not really getting the joke.

 _'...and now I'm beginning to wonder if the 'Draco' in Selina's collaborative story was partially based on Ernie.'_

"Right. I knew that," Shinji replied, trying to hide his confusion with a chuckle. "So is it just your friends then?

"Well, friends of the family," Ernie corrected. "Mostly other Hufflepuff purebloods, since we've all known each other for a long time. They spent the night."

"Ah. Anyone I know?"

"Well, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones from our year," Ernie remarked, glancing back towards the grand hallway and the stairs winding up it. "I don't think they're awake yet, since we were up pretty late last night. I know I..." the boy yawned again. "I'm still pretty worn out. They wouldn't let me sleep until they were satisfied."

"Is that so?" Shinji couldn't help but ask, waggling his eyebrows. "Not until they were satisfied, huh?"

Alas, the other Hufflepuff looked away, even if the Japanese boy could see that his cheeks were red.

"H-hey, don't get the wrong idea, Matou. Nothing dodgy happened. We were just telling stories and playing _Lords of Swinverrucas_ and they wouldn't stop until we'd found a way to kill a basilisk."

"Kill a…a what?" The name sounded familiar, but...

"A basilisk," Ernie repeated. "You know. The King of Serpents."

Shinji just looked at him blankly.

"A giant snake which can kill you if you meet its eyes. And whose venom is deadlier than any potion Slughorn can brew," Ernie continued, then when Shinji showed no signs of recognition... "The snake whose skin we found in the Chamber?"

"Oh. Ohh, right, that thing." Shinji blinked. "That…that sounds tough."

"Yeah, it was kind of a mess," the blond boy remarked, scratching his head awkwardly. "In the end, we needed to get ahold of a phoenix and some goblin-forged sword called Caliburn, or maybe Excalipoor - I don't remember which, with the bird burning its eyes out, and one of us charging in and jamming the sword into its mouth when it tried to eat us."

"…that sounds like a…" Shinji trailed off, unable to find the words. "Like a very _Phelan_ thing to do."

"Heh, you're right. It does," Ernie chuckled, though he winced a moment later. "It worked, though. We lived, somehow, and even got a nice artifact out of it. A Holy Grail, whatever that is."

"…a Holy Grail, you say?" the Japanese boy repeated. "What did it do?"

"Supposedly, it could grant our party a single wish, but we couldn't agree on a wish, so we sold it and used it to buy new equipment," the Hufflepuff pureblood explained. "The buyer, some red-haired woman who called herself a Magician, was pretty generous, too. Paid us in gems."

"You…sold, the Holy Grail," the boy said numbly. "To a Magician."

"Well, _**a**_ Holy Grail," Ernie replied. "Apparently, there are a few of them in the world of Swinverrucas, though that was one of the most lightly defended of the group."

"Huh."

Not for the first time, Shinji began to wonder what exactly Selina knew about the moonlit world, but thought it would probably be futile to ask when Ernie wouldn't know what he was talking about.

"Was that about all then?"

"Well, no," Ernie replied. "About an hour after midnight, some more people stopped by and joined the game."

"...more people?" Shinji echoed. "That late?" Why...?

"Every year, one of our houses gets picked as the place where the Ball afterparty is for Hufflepuffs and alumni," Ernie explained, shaking his head. "Usually a pureblood house, since we have house-elves and, well, the space. Nothing against Muggleborns, but they usually don't have room for so many people." He paused. "Unless it's Exton Hall, but even then, no house-elves. We rotate, since otherwise one family would have to pay for everything every year."

"I thought you purebloods were all rich?" Shinji questioned. "At least, that's the impression that Malfoy always gives off."

"Rich or not, do you have any idea how much fire-whiskey people drink after the Ball?"

"...no?"

Ernie laughed then, if weakly.

"That's good, Matou. Hopefully it stays that way," the blond boy commented, with his stomach growling in protest of his continued neglect of it. "So...breakfast?"

Shinji shrugged.

"Why not?"

* * *

At the grand table to which Shinji was led, there were a number of people already seated, though none of them seemed to be Hufflepuffs from his year.

There were a gaggle that he thought might be second years, a few third years, two fourth years he recognized – as he well should for they were prefects, as well as a couple of others.

 _'Those prefects, what were their names…? Cedric Diggory and...'_ His mind blanked when it came to the name of the other prefect. _'Something Haywood?'_

"Good morning!" Cedric said cheerfully as he saw Shinji and Ernie coming to the table. "I didn't realize any of the first years were awake yet, since we kept them up so late!" Then he blinked, as his mind caught up to his mouth. "Wait a minute, Matou? You weren't here with us last night!" He paused, glancing at the blonde beside him. "Or was he, Beatrice?"

"No, I don't think he was," the other prefect commented. "He didn't come in with the afterparty guests, anyway."

"Ah, I just came in this morning to talk to Ernie," Shinji responded, feeling the urge to flinch as all eyes turned to him. "I was uh, I was...elsewhere on the Eve."

Not that they all didn't already know, he was sure, if the issues of the _Daily Prophet_ on the table, opened up to photographs of attendees of the Minister's Ball, was any indication, since he and Natsumi were featured in one of them.

"Yes. I know. I saw you," another voice spoke up, with Shinji recognizing the speaker as an incredibly hungover Nymphadora Tonks – well, Nymphadora Black these days. At least, he was pretty sure she was hung over, if her bleary-eyed appearance and the small groans she made with every movement were any indication.

From the look of her still-wet hair and the fluffy white robe she was wearing, she had just recently come out of the bath. This raised some questions in Shinji's mind, since, sitting beside Tonks and rubbing her back tenderly, there was a rather statuesque blonde with startlingly blue eyes that he had never seen before.

Said woman was _also_ dressed in a fluffy-white robe – and that her hair was wet – suggested that she and Tonks had...

 _'No. That's not really any of my business.'_

Maybe they'd just shared the shower to…uh…save water or something?

"You saw me?" Shinji echoed.

"Don't pretend to be an idiot, Matou, you were at the Ball," Tonks grumped, looking up from a plate laden with bacon, sausage, ham, and eggs. "Wotcher firsties doing at the Minister's Ball?"

"...having a good time?" he hazarded. "Better than the one you seemed to have with—"

But the boy's words trailed off as Tonks grabbed the goblet beside her plate and brought it to her lips, downing the contents in a single gulp, before slamming it down on the table.

 _'Ok...sensitive subject.'_

He turned his attention to the blonde sitting beside her.

"Forgive me, but I don't think I've had the pleasure..." he asked.

"Ah. Penny Haywood. Graduated from Hogwarts just before you came," came the ready reply.

"You were Tonks' classmate then?"

The blonde nodded.

"And designated transport person when she's…had a bit much. Like a designated driver, but magic," she offered pleasantly. "I'm also Beatrice's older sister," she added, gesturing at the female of the pair of prefects.

"…you…you're a Muggleborn?" Shinji asked, as he didn't think a pureblood would know the term "designated driver."

"No, but my father is. I'm a half-blood," Penny corrected. "And you are the much rumored Matou Shinji."

"Much rumored, huh?" Shinji echoed, raising an eyebrow. "And what do the rumors say?"

"Oh, that you're a bit of a troublemaker. That you were there when the Chamber of Secrets was discovered. That you are a Russian noble or something."

"Wait, what?" the Japanese boy asked. "Why do they think that? I'm from Japan!"

"Apparently, you had Sokaris transcribing a book for you? A Russian book?" Penny explained. "At least, that's what I've heard. Then well, considering you had enough money to just outright buy the Black cottage."

"…well, ok, that's fair." On that point, he could see how the rumors were jumping to at least a somewhat reasonable conclusion based on the evidence at hand. "What else?"

"That you like blondes," she added teasingly.

"Well, that's-wait what was that?" the poor boy asked, as he did a double take, his mind screeching to a halt.

"Heh, I just wanted to see your reaction," Penny commented, with Tonks seeming to cheer up a bit at his embarrassment. "So let's set the rumors straight then. Tell us about yourself. You're from Japan, right?"

"...yes?" Shinji offered. "And what do you want to know?"

"Well, what has Hogwarts been like for you?" the alumna asked. "Anything memorable happen? Any good people you met?"

"Hogwarts?" Shinji echoed, shaking his head. "It's...well, it's been an experience. It's…chaotic is the word I would use, with all the sights and sounds and smells. The food is a bit heavy compared to what I'm used to. And the school is…well, it's...a little dirty, since people don't clean up after themselves."

"Oh?" Penny inquired. "I take it this is different in Japan?"

"It is," Shinji confirmed, nodding. "We don't have school caretakers there, or house-elves, or anything. Students take turns cleaning the school and make sure everything works as a way to build up a sense of responsibility." He smiled slightly. "Society thinks it helps us be more accountable, since we realize that we'll have to be the ones to fix our messes – no one is being paid to do it for us."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Penny noted frankly, nodding. "When you say cleaning the school, do you just mean classrooms or…?"

"Classrooms, hallways, bathrooms. Everything," the Japanese boy remarked. "I won't say I miss that last bit, especially since they didn't let us use ma…use spells."

"…no spells?" Penny asked, as the statuesque blonde's tone shot up.

"Using...spells would make it too easy," he replied quietly. "Part of the point is to teach us discipline, after all."

"Huh. That's usually something only something for students who are given detention at Hogwarts," Penny remarked. "Actually, to help people learn discipline. Funny how that works, that you don't even have to get in trouble before they make you clean."

"It's just something you get used to," Shinji said, shrugging. "And we don't really have detention, exactly."

"Sounds like my kind of place," Tonks quipped, before rubbing her temple with one of her free hands. "No way to get in trouble."

"Then what do you do with troublemakers?"

"There are…other ways," the Japanese boy remarked. "They lose points, and everyone knows it."

"Like…House points?"

"Kind of?" Shinji offered. "The more points you have, compared to other 'classes', the more privileges you get. So when someone drags down your class…"

"Ah. So people single them out, make sure they change."

"Yeah. A lot of it is about fitting in, knowing where you belong and your place in the world," Shinji explained. He didn't know how much of this was actually what happened at _Mahoutokoro,_ but he was pretty sure none of the others did either.

"...would you fit in, I wonder?"

The question seemed innocent enough, but…

"...that...I don't know," the boy admitted. "I did when I was younger. Now..." He shook his head. "Hogwarts has changed me."

"You say that like it's been years, not months," Cedric interjected with a friendly smile. "Surely we haven't made _that_ big an impact on you."

"It's been a very long few months," the boy replied dryly. "The people help – they're friendly, especially the Hufflepuffs, but...it's so different." He sighed. "Even thinking in English instead of Japanese is so…disordered." He glanced between the older students. "I don't suppose you have any advice for me?"

"Maybe," Penny offered. "But what kind of advice are you looking for? What classes to take? How to get along with people? What does the future look like after Hogwarts?" She paused. "The sorts of adventures you can and can't get away with?"

"I guess...in how to best get along with people?" Shinji hazarded, noting that his question brought him some questioning looks from Cedric Diggory - and from his friend Ernie. "I mean, everyone in Hufflepuff is friendly and easy to get along with but..." He shook his head. "Look, I know I'm from another country, and I know I'm not the..." he trailed off, unable to decide what the right words were.

"You can be a bit prickly sometimes?" Ernie suggested.

"...there is that," the Japanese boy admitted with a sigh. "That, and I know there are...well, Ravenclaws seems to hate me – or fear me – for some reason."

"Hate you?" Cedric piped up. "But don't you spend a good deal of time with a Ravenclaw? That...Sokaris, was it? I hear she's quite a potions prodigy."

"Well, yes," Shinji admitted, grimacing as he looked down. "But she's not the one I mean. It's people like...Cho Chang."

Cedric made a face when Shinji brought up the second-year Ravenclaw.

"Ah, Cho," the Hufflepuff prefect noted awkwardly. "Well, that has less to do with you and more to do with her longstanding..." He glanced at Beatrice. "Chang's friends were bullying Tsuji after her lab partner fell sick last year. Something about blaming her for what happened to him. She never said anything about it, even as it got worse and worse, until one day almost all the girls in Ravenclaw had to be sent to St. Mungo's after one of them lost control of a spell they were using to bully her. They, uh...they got her alone in a locked classroom and tried to burn off her hair with transfigured dragons. Only...the ones who ended up burned and clawed and bleeding on the floor were the bullies, with Tsuji being the one to save their lives by telling Professor Sprout about what happened. They've never forgiven her for that."

Shinji had heard this before from Miyuki-senpai, of course, but hearing it from someone else sent a fresh bit of hatred through him towards those…wastes of resources for daring to do what they'd done to senpai.

"So...they locked her in a room, tried to do terrible things to her, and when things backfired, they consider her the monster?" he summarized.

"Yes," Cedric replied, a tinge of sadness in his expression.

"The gall of it. Monsters, all of them. I wish they _had_ died," the boy growled, with Ernie flinching away from the aura of menace he seemed to project.

"…that's…sometimes I wonder if they do too," the prefect muttered, as he took a deep breath. "Every day, they go around, knowing they live – that they're allowed to be at Hogwarts – solely because of Tsuji's mercy. That she took their cruelty, their intentions, their hatred, and threw it in their faces. She could have let them die. She could have had them expelled. Instead, they owe her everything. And they hate that. They hate _her_ , more than ever. But they know that if they do something untowards, she really will destroy them."

"…and if she doesn't, we will," Beatrice spoke up, her face hard. "No one should be able to pick on a Puff like that and expect to get away with it. We may not be the smartest, the most cunning, or the bravest, but be damned if we're not going to stick up for one another."

"Still, we can protect people from others, now that we know these things are happening. We can't protect people from themselves," Cedric noted glumly. "Tsuji is brilliant and what she did to them – sparing them, was a beautiful thing. But she was hurt by it all too. For the rest of the year, she didn't seem to get close to anyone ever again. She only ever talked to people in class, or over tea, during her 'consultation hours.' She distanced herself from her classmates, from those in her year, from everyone. That is, until this year, when you and Natsumi came along." He shook his head. "I can't tell you how relieved I was that she was making friends again. We were all worried about her."

Shinji...had never looked at things from that angle before. He hadn't really imagined senpai was...

 _'No, that's right. Her expression that night - her laugh so full of loneliness...'_

Had…had he managed to help her somehow? To touch her heart?

The very thought made him feel warm.

"I see," the boy remarked solemnly, casting his eyes to the ground. "That's…I didn't know. But I have someone else who is more of a problem. Granger."

The prefects looked at one another, before turning back to him.

"Go on."

"I hate her. I hate how she always…" She was always following him around, telling him off, glaring at him. "She's always treating me like I'm doing something wrong, always trying to get me into trouble."

She followed him around, yet ran when she got caught. She had trouble, yet screamed when he tried to help. She pulled him into a classroom and berated him with words and insults, yet when he passed out from rage or grief, yet seized up when he so much as caught her eye in public.

"I don't even know what to think. And the way she looks at me..."

It wasn't as if he'd done anything to her.

Well, that is, other than, oh…breaking her wand, nearly killing her, getting her shoulder dislocated when she tried to hurt him, taking away all of Sokaris' attention, probably getting Quirrell to make her forget what happened with the Chamber…

 _'...ok, maybe I did more to her than I thought, but surely this can't all have started because she was jealous that Sokaris wasn't spending more time around her, right?'_

The boy shuddered. If that was the reason she hated him, then...

 _'Yanderes are scary in real life.'_

"You're sure she doesn't just like you?" Tonks grunted, eyeing the boy with some amusement.

"No! I'm pretty, pretty sure she doesn't," Shinji responded at once. "At least I hope not. That would be..." The boy visibly shuddered. "No. Just no. I'd...I'd _sooner_ date my _sister than deal with_ her."

Realizing what he'd said a moment later, the boy cringed, but it was too late, for he'd already attracted the attention of the others.

"You have a sister?" Ernie asked curiously.

"Adopted. Not blood-related," he answered in a clipped rush.

"And you'd date her...?" Beatrice asked. "Ooh, how scandalous."

" **No,"** the boy replied vehemently, his voice laced with cold rage. "Not if it was the end of the world, and we were the last two people in it," he continued, his features twisting into a snarl at the thought of Sakura's body in the moonlight, her slim fingers helping her position herself as she poised herself over him and...

 **NO. NONONONONONO.**

The boy bent over as the world began to spin, the colors fading as everything turned

 **Red.**

Black.

 **Red**.

Black.

 **Red**.

Bla—

"Whoa, calm down Matou!" Ernie said in a near panic, seeing that Shinji had nearly doubled over as if in pain, his eyes and pupils contorted to some truly frightening dimensions. "Snap out of it!"

The voice of another person jerked him out of his murderous haze, with the boy stumbling and falling to the floor, finding himself looking up at the ceiling as it left him, not knowing how he'd gotten there.

 _'Huh? What…?'_

"...wow. You must really hate Granger, if thinking about her gets you this..." Cedric noted grimly. "Look, there's a dueling club at Hufflepuff I help to run," he offered, in an attempt to change the subject, even as Ernie helped him to his feet. "Maybe you could show up, learn some spells, get some of that anger out when we have the all-school dueling tournament."

"Or, if you want to do something across schools and meet more people, you could join the Potions Club," Beatrice offered. "I find that when I'm upset, the process of making a potion helps to calm me down, anyway. Or well, you could just make a draught of peace."

"I'll…I'll think about it," Shinji replied, finding himself barely able to stand as his mind turned to something more pleasant, taking the memory of the dream he'd had and using it as a talisman against the feelings of hate evoked by Granger.

"Well, you could always try kissing a good looking girl," Nymphadora Black interjected saucily. "That always seems to help me feel better."

"Tonks," Penny grumbled, her hand doing _something_ that made the Black heiress twitch.

"Oh, or or boy, I suppose. Either way," the Auror trainee said languidly, as she let her former classmate fuss over her. "Whatever works for you."

Given the material in the dream, Shinji's thoughts had gone well beyond kissing, but it wasn't as if he could admit that, red as he was…

"It's not like...not like I'm interested in k-k-kissing girls or anything," he said stiffly, as he looked away, though from the amused expressions on the older Hufflepuffs' faces, they knew he was lying.

"Are you sure?" Tonks asked lightly. "You seemed like you were interested enough with your dance partner." She slid a copy of the photo page of the Daily Prophet over to him, with one of them at just the right angle to show Miss Spencer-Moon pecking him on the cheek. "You can't tell me you don't think about kissing Miss Noel – or Miss Suzuki, if you do something like this with someone you've just met."

"Uh. Um..."

Unbidden, the sensation of Amber's lips on his – and then Natsumi's lips on his – came to mind, and unthinkingly, he brought his fingers to his lips, as Nymphadora Black's eyes widened in realization.

"...huh, wait, you've already," Tonks realized, jerking upright, her eyes widening, before she sat back.  
"Never mind, then," the metamorphmagus muttered. "Um, like Diggory says, join a club, talk to people. Learn about where you are and who you're with. This isn't Japan, as much as you miss it."

"...it...no, it isn't, I suppose," Shinji conceded. "Thanks."

The rest of breakfast was consumed quietly, with Ernie letting the others know that he'd be stepping out. But not before...

"Oh, by the way, Miss...Black."

"T-tonks is fine, Matou," the Auror trainee replied. Strangely, she looked a bit red as well – was she alright? "What do you want?"

"Tonks then," he said, nodding. "Um...I was wondering where you bought your furniture?"

"Huh. W-why do you want to know?" the metamorphmagus replied, puzzled. "I left the place furnished, didn't I?"

"Yes, but uh...I uh...sort of uh…brokethebed."

His last words were a squeak, but Tonks heard what he said just fine.

"You what?!" Tonks exclaimed. "Broke the...even I didn't do that until fourth year!" Every eye in the room turned to Tonks, and for the first time in many, many years, the world witnessed Tonks floundering, her expression hopelessly confused as her mouth worked open and closed. "I...what...who was even...what did you do?"

"I..." the boy began, but shook his head. It wouldn't do any good to explain. "I uh...I had a bad dream."

"A bad dream," the Auror trainee repeated. "You broke your bed because of a bad dream."

"I...just ask Natsumi. She was there!" the boy said defensively, only to fall silent as he realized all of the older Hufflepuffs were now staring at _him_.

"I um...wow," Tonks murmured, the first to begin moving again. "I'll...uh...haha…ahhh...I'll buy you a new bed. Because you...ah….ok, you win, Matou. You win."

"Win what?" Shinji asked, confused.

"What…do…you mean—"

"I don't think you should be answering that," Penny interjected, glancing at Tonks as she rubbed a bit lower now.

"Um. Yes. Yes. That's good. Yes, that's...yes. Yes…oh god, yes!" Nymphadora Black gasped, loudly and repeatedly, her body going perfectly still and rigid, as she let out something like a wail, before her whole body visibly relaxed, and she fell backwards into her seat, her headache seemingly gone. "Fine, Penny, you win," she mumbled in a daze. "You and your…magic hands. What would I do without you?"

"…get splinched while hungover, probably," Penny quipped, before turning to the quite frozen Ernie and Shinji, whose faces were utterly red. "Don't worry about Tonks. This happens sometimes. She just likes my massages."

"I…I'll bet," Ernie said tactfully. "Matou, it's probably a good time to go, shall we?"

"Try not to get yourself killed. Would be a terrible start to the new year, and you wouldn't even have died for love," the voluptuous blonde commented wryly.

"Heh. I'll try, but...you don't need to worry. We're just exploring some ruins," Shinji replied. "How bad could it be?"

From the way that Tonks looked up at his words and just shook her head, he gathered that the answer was ' _worse than he thought._ '

* * *

Returning to the manor, he found Phelan and Ron Weasley already there, along with Ronald's sister Ginny and the young blonde named Luna Lovegood.

"Good day, Matou," Luna greeted him as he stepped out of the fireplace, with Ernie close behind him, still…flushed.

"And to you, Luna," the boy returned with a gallant bow. "Ginny, Ronald, Phelan."

"Ah, there you are, Matou," the earl's son commented from where he was sitting on the couch, sipping on some tea. "You certainly took your time."

"Second breakfast," Shinji replied, pointing his thumb at Ernie. "He insisted."

"What next? Elevenses?" Phelan muttered under his breath, a comment that Luna seemed amused by. "Anyway, are we ready to go?"

"…sure, why not?"

"Indeed, what's the worst could happen?"

Shinji and Ernie looked at each other as Phelan said that last line, thinking that perhaps they were beginning to understand why Amber was so exasperated with her bothe—brother.

"Let's hope we don't find out," Ernie grunted.

"Indeed."

In the many years the ruin had been abandoned, no one had looked it over for magical creatures or other beasts, so who knew, perhaps something had taken over? If they did, and it was something dangerous, then without wands and without much more than accidental magic…

"Um. Let me get you some Mopsus first," Shinji almost fell over himself offering. "Just in case."

"Mopsus?" Luna questioned.

"It um, lets you move things with your mind."

"Like your muscles?" the blonde replied dreamily. "But I can already do that."

"…no, not like your muscles," Shinji answered, not sure how much of the girl's demeanor was an act, and how much was genuine. "Like rocks and…things like that."

"Do we really need it?" Phelan asked. "We're just exploring a ruin."

"…better safe than sorry," Ernie replied. "Let's not end up in St. Mungo's on New Year's Eve."

"…really, Macmillan?"

Later, after the excusion, Phelan would maintain that such measures had been a waste. After all, it wasn't as if one needed magic to defeat a Pogrebin.

"How about five of them?"

"Even then!"


	39. Auld Lang Syne

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 38.** _Auld Lang Syne_

"So, how was your outing with my brother, Matou?" Amber asked as Shinji stepped out of the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron, dressed in his formal kimono, with she herself dressed in a lovely white kimono, with delicate cherry blossoms embroidered on it in gold. There weren't a huge number of patrons in the bar, but those who were there seemed to freeze as they caught sight of him, as if he was some sort of celebrity. 'Oh, come on, just because I was in the paper this morning...'

"It's him..." he heard someone whisper. "The playboy of the eastern world!"

 _'What did they just call me?'_

"He's only a first year, but they say he bought out the old Malfoy pleasure house for...pleasure..." another whispered, none too discreetly. "Just look, he's gone to parties at the Ministry twice, with a different girl on his arm each time."

"Ah, youth. To be a student again. To snog the girls—

"—instead of a bottle, as is your wont, since your wife...well, won't, Phineas?"

"Bah! I still say it wasn't my fault she got heavy child all those years ago. She told me it was safe."

"Aye, that happens sometimes, lad."

"If that...I could have been a Quidditch star, I tell you, the envy of every lad and lassie...but..." one of the men lost in his cups groaned morosely. "If only...if only she hadn't - no if only that wretched copper hadn't killed half the team."

"Copper? Oh, that Copper?"

"That one, aye. Froze us all in ice so cold, it froze my bits off. Well, nearly. Afterwards, I was just so happy everything was err...working, that I didn't think. Not with me big head anyway."

"That wasn't what she said."

"...shaddup."

Matou Shinji's attention was pulled away from the conversation in the background when Amber coughed, with him almost jumping. She looked him up and down, frowning as she noted that he seemed a little scratched up. "Did something happen?"

"If by something you mean we were ambushed by Pogrebins, then yes," the Japanese boy grumbled. "Your old house had an infestation of them."

"...really?" Amber inquired with no small bit of shock. "How did they get there?"

"Maybe whoever set the fire left them behind. Your family made some enemies back then, didn't they?

"Well, yes..."

And in truth, the original Exton Hall had burned down in a period after the original Noels had lost all their titles, with Sir Gerald, who adopted the family name by license, getting into a fair bit of trouble due to his...appetites (as one might note from the 18 children he had with his first wife, the child he had with the local vicar's daughter, and his other descendants, not to mention the banking ventures he embarked on).

Perhaps it had been retaliation for one of his many affairs, or perhaps he had simply made enemies eager to see his belongings put to the torch. To this day, the truth remained unknown, with all that was known being that fire was discovered in the early hours of 23 May 1810, and that before any assistance could be had, half the house together with its contents had been destroyed.

"Maybe they were magical enemies," Shinji suggested, shrugging. "It wouldn't be impossible, Lady Gainsborough."

"I suppose so," she mused. "Anyway, are you feeling better?"

Shinji smiled, his expression a bit lopsided. "I was feeling poorly this morning. Sorry. I'm better now."

"Good," Amber replied, stepping forward and giving him a tight hug. "I was worried."

"...you shouldn't have to, not for someone like me."

"There you go again, talking about yourself as if you're not worth anything," the young noblewoman muttered, before moving to his side and taking his hand. "Come on, its about time to go to the gala. I think it will be nice, don't you?"

"Well, I can't say I mind the company," he said as he walked out the Leaky Cauldron with her, his eyebrows shooting skywards when a distinctive black car pulled up in front of them, with a very, very large tuxedo-clad man, who matched Shinji's mental image of a professional bodyguard, emerging.

Said man walked over to the back door and opened it with a bow.

"Your ride, Lady Gainsborough?" the man rumbled. "And companion."

"Ah, thank you Jeeves," the copper-haired girl replied, nodding to the man. "Matou, after you."

"...ladies first, I thought."

"Except when the lady suggests otherwise."

* * *

Despite what Shinji had assumed, given the formalwear he was dressed in, the gala event at the Victoria and Albert Museum was anything at all like the Minister's Ball he'd attended the night before. Oh, there was dancing, certainly, and more than enough space for guests to flitter about and mingle with one another, but it was so much more than that.

It was a celebration of Japanese culture, with the attendees sharing in the traditions of the east - something which made the boy feel...like he was home (as in, among his people, not at the house in Fuyuki where his...sister and those who fawned over her lived).

Or so Shinji realized when a _sake_ barrel was brought in the stage in the center of the great concourse, with the Director of the Museum - and Natsumi's parents - stepping onto the stage after it for the _kagami-biraki_ ceremony - breaking open the lid with a wooden mallet - symbolizing the opening of a new year, and the wish for all to share in harmony and good fortune, as they spoke words of welcome.

...such was reinforced by the _sake_ in the barrel being served to the attendees, with Shinji and a few others being given something else. A milky sort of concoction that nevertheless, seemed familiar.

 _'Amazake...'_ he thought, and so it proved to be when he brought it to his lips. 'How nostalgic...'

Not that the boy thought that nostalgic was the right word, exactly, as the past didn't really have that many happy memories for him.

 _'Some of my best memories, in fact, were made after coming to Hogwarts.'_

Meeting Miyuki-senpai and Natsumi.

Making friends with Amber, Ernie, and Selina.

Learning of the world from Quirrell, who seemed to respect his hunger for knowledge.

His first kiss, unexpected as it had been.

Being accepted by someone, despite his failures - despite the darkness inside him.

Being around people who genuinely liked him, even if he wasn't the smartest, the bravest, or the wisest.

Owning a house - having a place to call his own, which his family had no hold over.

It had only been half a year or so since he'd gone to Kyoto to buy his supplies for his time at Hogwarts, and yet things had changed so much. He hadn't imagined when he'd come to Hogwarts in second-hand clothes, that he would end up meeting some of the friendliest, most genuine people he'd ever known, that people would like him even if he wasn't the very best at everything, that he would accomplished so much.

 _'But then, I didn't think I had an obscurus sleeping inside of me either...'_

Did the good balance out the bad? It was hard to say. There were days when he said yes, and then there were days when he almost wished that he hadn't seen so much kindness, hadn't been treated so well. If he was betrayed here, as his family had betrayed him...

 _'No. It won't happen. People won't just leave me behind like I'm useless. They accept me. They like me.'_

All except Granger, of course, as the yandere's obsession with Sokaris had obviously warped her mind, as such things did in all the manga he'd read in his youth.

After all, girls could be very scary, if properly motivated.

Something warm squeezed his hand then, with Shinji glancing beside him to see Amber looking at him with a touch of concern. Their eyes met briefly, before he looked away, his face burning with embarrassment as the happenings of a certain dream came to mind.

 _'Well, fine. Girls can be...nice...too,'_ he amended, swallowing.

"You ok?"

"Yeah...just thinking," the boy said distantly.

"Anything in particular?"

"Just...stuff," he said lamely.

"Stuff?" she echoed. "That's...very specific, Matou."

"Just all the things that happened in the last half year," he volunteered, since it seemed she wouldn't be satisfied with some vague answer. "And the wonderful people I've met. Like you."

He smiled at her, a bit shyly.

"You're not so terrible yourself, Mister Matou, even if you're still a little rough around the edges."

"Oh please, I'm not just a little rough around the edges," Shinji joked. His smile faded as he turned away, sipping his drink. "But, thank you. You and Natsumi both, really."

"What for?"

"For staying with me, despite how...difficult I am sometimes," the boy remarked, shaking his head. "With my nightmares and...everything. I'm...a bit of a mess."

"You are, but you're our mess," Amber replied, with the Japanese boy blinking as he looked at her. "And our friend."

"Even if I'm 'denser than a neutron star?'" the boy drawled wryly.

"Ahem, well, I'm..." the copper-haired girl turned her head away as she coughed. "I'm sure Nats meant that as a compliment."

"I'm sure." Shinji's tone was as dry as a bone left out in the desert. "Speaking of Nats, where is she, anyway? Wasn't this her family's gala?"

Amber merely tugged on his hand, indicating the stage, where someone in a white _haori_ and red _hakama_ reminiscent of a _miko_ 's attire was—

 _'—wait, is that_ _ **Natsumi**_ _?!'_

And so it was. He hadn't recognized her at first, given that her hair was not worn in its usual twin-tails, but was tied in a ponytail with red and white ribbons.

Usually, she seemed mischievous, sporty, a spark of light in the gloom – but tonight, she was more. She was almost regal, with every movement measured and poise that seemed on par with senpai's.

Unbidden, the lights in the hall dimmed, then winked out, with the only illumination being the spotlight on the chestnut haired _miko_ on the stage.

Quietly, almost too quietly to hear, something sounded. The sound of drums, muted, but growing louder, a low rumble like a distant storm. And to the tidings of that aural tempest, the _miko_ moved, her body following the well-practiced rhythms of an ancient kagura - a ritual dance to appease the gods and invoke their blessings, with bells tinkling to punctuate every shift in stance, the end of every set of steps.

 _'She looks...lonely on that stage, awash in light...'_

Her footsteps traced out a story, old as time, a story of the dawn that would not come, of a lone priestess who sought to rouse the sun from its grief, moving as if carrying the weight of the world, thinking that if only she kept believing, the world she dreamed - the world of hope - might come to be.

She danced.

She moved.

She _spun_ , spinning to the tinkling of bells and the quiet rhythm of muffled drums, offering her feelings to the heavens and her labours to the earth, until at last, time and sound came to a halt.

The spotlight went dark, plunging the hall into darkness.

And then, just the silence was beginning to overflow, with the tension of the audience rising as they wondered if something had gone wrong...light blossomed, a shimmering orb like the sun rising from her hands to the ceiling, as the lights in the hall - and the spotlight - came on all at once, illuminating the _miko_ who stood alone on stage, bell laying on the ground before her, hands raised to the sky.

Matou Shinji was not the first to clap, but only because he was staggered - stunned - by what he had seen, his mouth agape.

"...if you don't close your mouth, Mister Matou, you don't know what will find its way inside," a voice whispered from beside him, breaking him from his trance. "Who knows. Maybe it will be your foot one of these days."

"Huh?" he asked, noticing too late that everyone in the hall was clapping, and belatedly joining in. "T-that was...? Natsumi was...?"

"Yeah. She does this sort of thing sometimes. Her parents have been making her learn since she was young," Amber murmured, just loud enough to hear. The girl seemed to sigh. "When she comes out after changing, go dance with her."

"Huh?" the boy repeated, quite eloquently. "But...didn't you say just this morning that I should pay attention to my, uh, d-date?"

"Yes, but that was then. And you owe Nats a dance from last night anyway," the copper-haired girl said brusquely. "So why don't you go do that, hm?"

Amber indicated a door off to the side of the main hall, marked "Staff Only."

"She'll come out from over there, so why don't you go wait?"

"W-what about you?"

"I'm sure I'll find you afterwards," the copper-haired girl stated, as the announcement was made that the next performance would not be for an hour, and that food and drink were being served. "I have...I saw someone I needed to talk to."

"Someone from..."

"Mhm, someone from school. It would only be polite to say yes, right?" Amber questioned, to which Shinji could only nod.

He made his way across the hall over to the door Amber had pointed out, though when he got there, he realized that there was someone else already there: a bespectacled, red-haired woman in a blouse and black slacks, chewing on a stick of cinnamon as if it was a cigarette as she leaned against the wall, her eyes closed.

...a very familiar looking red-haired woman at that.

* * *

' _No…what…what is…why is…'_

"Aozaki..." His voice leaked out before he could help himself, with the woman opening her eyes and glancing over at him.

"Eh, is it..." she shook her head, before closing her eyes again, as if he wasn't really worth looking at. "You're a long way from Mahoutokoro, brat."

"...I could say the same about you," the boy replied carefully. "What are you—"

"The puppet show," was the simple response. "And you?"

"...the puppet..." Shinji repeated. 'What. Isn't that a bit...on the nose?' "What do you mean the puppet show?"

"The Bunraku performance," the master puppeteer explained, as if she was tired of the effort of speaking. Or perhaps simply was tired of speaking to him. "The puppets were commissioned by the Suzuki family, and are to be auctioned off tonight to benefit the museum." She paused. "Well, mostly to benefit the museum."

"Ah." Shinji's mouth went dry. Was...was she seriously saying that the puppets in tonight's performance had been _hand-crafted_ by the single greatest puppeteer in the world? _'Isn't that going a little overboard.'_ "I, uh, I didn't know that you…"

"That I took contracts for this kind of thing?" she asked, opening her eyes again. "Well, I do. I can't make a living from helping first years do their shopping, no matter how wealthy their families are."

The boy winced.

"Sorry – I know I probably wasted your time."

"Eh, I was between other jobs anyway," the magus admitted. "And I had things to do in _Mahoutokoro_ anyway."

"T-then I'm glad I didn't inconvenience you too badly," Shinji said deferentially. He sighed, shaking his head. "I have to say, you're not a lot like your sister."

To say that the boy was startled when the puppeteer opened her eyes and just _stared_ at him, fixing him in place with a killing intent so heavy it was as if gravity had increased tenfold, well – that was a bit of an understatement, really.

Not when he could no longer move.

No longer speak.

No longer _breathe._

' _Am I…am I going to die…? On the first day of the new year?'_

What an irony that would be, to escape death during one of Phelan's adventures, only to bring ruin to himself by saying the wrong thing…

' _Oh god…no…please…'_

In his vision, darkness swam, flecks of darkness expanding as he, as he…

' _Senpai, I'm so—'_

And then the pressure disappeared, with Shinji falling to his knees, as he greedily gulped in mouthfuls of air, thankful he could breathe again.

"…don't mention her again," the magus spoke, with the boy moving his head up and down like a bobble-head doll. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I…uh...I…"

"Speak up. I don't have all day."

"I, uh…I'm meeting someone," he somehow got out, his hands brushing his neck. "Natsumi. My uh…my friend. From school."

"Ah. The Suzuki girl," Touko grunted. "Smart, that one. Though maybe not so smart if she spends time with you, brat."

Shinji really wanted to say something in protest, but…for one, it wasn't worth possibly annoying her, and for another, there had been no heat in her comment.

"…without her, I'd probably be worse off," he admitted instead.

"Heh. That would be a sight to see," the woman muttered. "What house are you, anyway?"

Shinji blinked. How…how did she know…?

"Huffle…puff?" he hazarded. "You meant my school house, right?"

"What else?" the magus questioned, shrugging. "Well, being a hard worker is a good trait to have, I suppose."

"…you know about the houses of…my school? Why…?"

Aozaki Touko took hold of the cinnamon stick and removed it from her mouth, letting out a long exhalation.

"Not really your business, brat. Just other work I was hired to help with," she explained, which frankly, was more of an answer than Shinji had expected.

He wanted to ask more, but before he could, the door opened, with Natsumi emerging from it, clad in a black kimono patterned with copper sparrows and reeds.

"Matou-kun!" she exclaimed with delight, though after greeting him, she seemed almost shy. "Did you…did you see?"

"I…I did," the boy replied, swallowing at the sight of her. Like this, dressed up, with her hair pulled up, she seemed so different from the usual Natsumi. "It was…" '… _beautiful.'_

He couldn't make himself say it, but it seemed she read his reaction from his face as she smiled.

"I'm glad."

"A-amber said you've been doing this for a long time?"

"Yes. Since before I went to boarding school," she answered, a hint of pride in her voice. "I think it's nice to share something like this with the world."

"…it is," Shinji said wholeheartedly. "Were you…were you nervous? Performing in front of all those people?"

"I didn't think about the people. I never do. I just lose myself in the dance," Natsumi replied, with the boy nodding slowly.

"Why don't you two and flirt somewhere else?" Touko half-growled. "I want a bit of peace and quiet before I have to join the other puppeteers."

"Ah, Miss Aozaki. I didn't see you just now!" the brunette stammered apologetically.

"Obviously," Touko drawled.

"Thank you again for everything. For doing so much on such short notice," the girl said to the magus, bowing deeply out of respect. "It means a great deal that a master craftsman like yourself—"

"Eh, that's what you're paying me for, right?" the redhead inquired, waving away her thanks, though there was more than a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "That's thanks enough."

"If you say so, Aozaki-sensei," Natsumi stated, though she seemed uncertain. "Still, thank you anyway."

"Hmph." The puppeteer shook her head. "It seems you have manners, unlike this brat here," she said, gesturing at Shinji, whose mouth gaped open as if he was a fish. "Rich family or not."

"Wha—"

"Um, you know his family, Aozaki-sensei?"

"We've had dealings, now and again," the Japanese magus replied with a shrug. "What you see in him, I don't know. Still, he's not rotten yet, unlike my sister. Keep him out of trouble, would you? Since he's your…classmate," she said, looking between the two of them knowingly.

"Um, yes, of course, Aozaki-sensei!" Natsumi stammered. "But—"

"Oh, and before I forget," the puppeteer noted, her lips curving up into a very thin smile. "I was asked to pass along a message by that Tsuji girl."

"Oh, yes, what did senpai have to say?"

"To wish you a happy new year, and to let you know that she was invited to spend the summer in _Mahoutokoro,_ " Aozaki Touko stated. "She said that she would, if she could bring people she knew. They agreed that she could bring two."

"Um, so—"

"Tsuji wanted to know if you could come," the puppeteer questioned.

Natsumi hesitated for a moment, but…

"I…I can," the girl replied, nodding.

"Um…did she have a message for me?" Shinji interjected, hoping against hope that maybe the answer was yes.

But…

"…no." Reality proved contrary to his expectations. "Were you hoping it was otherwise?"

"...not really," he mumbled, though in his heart, the answer was _yes._ "Why…?"

"Your mouth says no, but your body says yes," the puppeteer quipped, with Shinji looking down, unable to meet her eye. The magus chuckled, as she turned and walked over to the door, pushing it open. "Eh, don't look so disappointed, brat. It's not the end of the world."

"I…"

"She probably just didn't think I would run into you," Touko said, more gently than Shinji would have expected. "Besides, there is room for two, so who knows, perhaps you can go as well."

The boy started to say something, but before he could get the words out, the door closed in his face.

' _Damnit.'_

"Come on, Matou-kun," Natsumi said softly, as she reached out and took his hand. "Let's dance."

"I'd like that."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"No, just the ones I—" he cut himself off hastily.

"…the ones you…" the girl echoed meaningfully.

"The people who are mean a lot to me. Like you. Or Amber. Or Senpai."

Natsumi chuckled.

"Well, if you put it like that, I can't say no, can I?"


	40. Trial by Fire

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 39.** _Trial by Fire_

The atmosphere at Hogwarts on the first day back from the winter break was usually much gloomier than at a Muggle school, but then, this was to be expected. Students at Muggle schools, while disappointed that their time to sleep in and eat great food with their families was over, could at least look forward to seeing friends and catching up with everything that had happened over the long holiday. Most of those in Magical Britain, however, saw their friends often enough, since the number of those who practiced witchcraft were not large in number, and so the return to school was just something one had to bear without (too much) grumbling, lest House points be deducted and detentions assigned.

This year, however, the mood was more confused than anything else, or at least that's what Shinji was coming to believe, as the constant babbling of his classmates kept him from nodding off in History of Magic.

"…where's Binns?" another of his classmates wondered, with the Japanese boy looking to the podium at the front of the room to see that the old specter was in fact, not present.

' _That's weird…'_

"Nats?" he asked, turning to the girl seated beside him. "Do you know what's going on?

The brunette just shook her head.

"No," she said softly. "I don't. He's usually here by now…"

While not especially engaging, the ghost had always been punctual, at least, always starting – and ending – on time. From what he'd heard, it had been that way for nearly a century. The man – ghost – and his boring lectures were practically an institution in and of themselves, which made his absence today all the more glaring.

Minutes passed, then half an hour.

Soon enough, class was over, with Binns never having made an appearance.

Nor did he show up for any of his other classes that day, an occurrence so patently unusual that the entire school – students, staff, and visiting Aurors alike – was talking about it by dinner, with Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall announcing at dinner that that Binns' disappearance was currently under investigation.

…needless to say, the fact that it wasn't Headmaster Dumbledore making the announcement left a number of students even more confused, with some asking McGonagall where the Headmaster was, only to be told that he was away on "personal business."

* * *

The following Monday, Binns had still not shown his face anywhere, with none of the staff, students, or even his teaching assistants, having reported seeing him at the office, the classroom, or anywhere around Hogwarts.

As such, some emergency measures had been taken, with the schedules of students temporarily changed about so that _someone_ could teach them history.

That _someone_ of course, being Professor Quirinus Quirrell, who as the most junior of the teachers at Hogwarts (and who, as the former Muggle Studies teacher, was considered to have taught something "close enough" to history that he wouldn't be completely out of his depth), had been volunteered by his colleagues for the role.

This, the students discovered after a long weekend, when they were given new schedules for the rest of the year.

"Why do we have to share both Defense and History with Ravenclaw?" a Hufflepuff – Zacharias Smith, Shinji thought his name was – could be heard complaining in the Hufflepuff Common Room, with some of the other first years nodding as they stood near the exit. "Those know-it-alls are going to make us look bad."

"They're not that bad," someone – Ernie – was protesting, since he couldn't just ignore them if he wanted to leave. "Some of them are friendly enough."

"Like that Sokaris girl? She's the worst of the lot," Smith countered, sneering at Macmillan. "She's Slughorn's pet. Always showing off. Always trying to prove she's better than everyone else. But I guess you don't mind since she throws you her scra—"

A rude clatter made the boy trail off, as Matou Shinji came down the stairs, knocking one of the armchairs in his way to the ground, with a look in his eye that said if Zacharias didn't shut up, he would soon follow.

"M-matou?" Ernie's voice seemed uncertain, as Shinji walked right up to Smith – closer than one would normally stand, until his face was right in the other Hufflepuff's.

"You want to say that again, _Smith_?" the Japanese boy sneered, his hand on his wand.

But Zacharias refused to be intimidated.

"What? That you're just Sokaris' dog? You, Macmaillan, Suzuki. All of you, just mon—"

But the boy's words were cut off by a strangled gasp, his once proud form doubling over as Shinji kneed him between the legs and stepped back.

"Oh…Merlin's…beard…" he whispered, his voice no longer harsh – no longer having the energy to be harsh. "…oh…god…ow…ow…"

Perhaps no one had ever hurt him there before? Zacharias Smith was a pureblood, after all, so perhaps the worst he suffered was a knockback jinx every once in a while.

' _Speaking of which…'_

" _Flipendo_ ," the Japanese boy intoned coldly, as a bright blue bolt flew from his upward-tilted wand and smashed into Smith's face, as his foe's body snapped upright. _"Flipendo,"_ he repeated, with the boy's body crashing to the ground, and Shinji's aim shifting one last time.

He paused, _wanting_ Zacharias to see where it was aimed at, to see what he was about to do.

"Oh…Merlin…no…ple-please, n—"

" _Flipendo duo,"_ Shinji hissed, slashing his wand downwards as a bolt of red flew from it and crashed into Zacharias' groin.

The pureblood boy who had so foolishly insulted Shinji's friends curled up into a ball as his manhood was all but crushed against the floor by this more powerful variant of the Knockback Curse, his mouth opening in a silent scream, as overcome by nausea, he promptly threw up, the stench of bile and acid leaking into the air.

"Anyone else?" the Japanese boy spoke up, a dangerous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Did anyone else want to speak badly of my friends, _whatever house they may be in_?" The group of hangers-on that Zacharias had been speaking to looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes. But he wasn't about to let them go so easily. "I asked you a question," he pressed, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Are you all deaf? Or merely dumb? _Is there anyone else?_ "

"N-no!" one replied, with the others shaking their heads furiously, frightened out of their wits by the display of actual violence towards one of their own.

"Then _get out of my way,_ " the Maton scion ordered, with Smith's sycophants falling over themselves to do so. He glanced at where Smith was still retching, splattered with his own vomit and curled up in a ball, as if terrified that Matou was going to hurt him again. "And clean this trash off the floor."

"Um, by trash, do you mean…"

"Don't ask stupid questions."

"Yes." "Of course." "Right away."

Snorting at how easily they were cowed ( _'Who is the mongrel now, wretches?')_ , the boy pulled open the door to the earthy passage leading outside and turned his back on them.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself into the passage, cursing – not for the first time – the dunderhead who had decided that the only way one could enter – or leave – the Hufflepuff Common Room was by crawling on one's hands and knees.

' _Did they were, did they want us to think we were all the same? That we were all equal?'_ he wondered. _'People are not equal. There will always be the weak and the strong, and the weak need to be shown their place. Especially those who insult their betters.'_

Well, if they'd just insulted _him_ , he wouldn't really have minded, but they'd insulted _Sokaris_ and then Natsumi, two of the three people who had accepted everything about him.

Black and red swam in his vision as he thought about those cretins – had swum in his vision ever since their insults had first begun to fly.

It was tempting – _so tempting –_ to just release the darkness inside him and _tear, rip, shred_ those idiots to pieces.

…but then, he would really be a monster.

Hence, he'd struck the Smith boy instead, showing more restraint than he would have liked.

' _I hope he appreciates how I did him a favor,'_ he thought to himself, a mask of calm finally settling over his features as he managed to get outside. _'And that he learns never to make the same mistake again.'_

* * *

Sadly, for Shinji's sense of self-satisfaction, his friend Ernie didn't seem to agree

"Matou, what the hell was that?!" the blond Hufflepuff had demanded, huffing and puffing since it had taken some doing to catch up to Shinji in the hallway outside the Common Room. "Why did you do that to Smith?"

"He insulted Sokaris, and Natsumi," the boy from the east responded. "Oh, and you. Was I supposed to do nothing?"

"Well, rather than do nothing—"

"I even showed mercy," Shinji stated. "I could have done worse to him, after all. All bluster and no bite. What a waste of resources."

"…you really do think that, don't you?" Ernie muttered.

"You mean you don't?" the Japanese boy asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned to his friend. "It's like dealing with a dog. You make sure it doesn't keep bad habits. Otherwise, you put it down."

"A dog?" Ernie repeated, tilting his head. "Why would you have a dog? And what do you mean put it down?"

Shinji shook his head.

"Right. They're not common familiars here, sorry," he said. "Well, what about a toad? If one ran away all the time, you would put it in a tank, wouldn't you? Make sure it couldn't escape and cause you trouble?"

"I-I suppose," Ernie replied uneasily. "I've never had a toad either."

"Well, there's Smith. He's slimy enough," Shinji joked, with his friend snorting despite himself.

"…you really don't like him, do you?" the blond Hufflepuff murmured. "I don't think you even talk like this about Granger."

Shinji stopped in his tracks, with Ernie tumbling to a halt as well, moments later.

"Macmillan."

"Yes?"

"I hate Granger. You know that, right?"

"…yes, but—"

"She's dangerous. I have to be careful around her. More careful than I have been," he grunted. He'd underestimated her, and so hadn't recognized her at the Minister's Ball – a mistake he wouldn't make again. "Smith? He's a git who needs a muzzle."

For the rest of the walk to Defense against the Dark Arts, the two were silent.

* * *

As concerned as Ernie was over Matou's shocking display of violence in the Common Room, and how little he'd seemed to care about hurting Smith that badly, such thoughts escaped his mind as he walked into the Defense classroom to find Professor Quirinus Quirrell humming to himself, with a broad smile on his face as if something wonderful had happened – much unlike all of the Professor's colleagues, who seemed concerned, if not panicked, by the fact that Binns was still missing – as was the Headmaster.

So he simply followed Shinji to a seat, idly noting that his friend had made it a point to sit next to Sokaris – and that Granger was on the seat to Sokaris' other side.

"Sokaris," the Japanese boy greeted, nodding to the purple-haired girl. "Thank you for the book."

"It was no trouble, Matou Shinji."

"Did you have a pleasant Christmas?" he asked, with the other turning to look at him consideringly.

"The silence was pleasant," the young Alchemist replied.

"…that's good," the Matou scion offered, with a smile. Then his face lit up. "Oh, that reminds me," he said, taking a small paper-wrapped package out of his pocket and passing it to his potions partner. "Here."

The purple-haired Ravenclaw raised an eyebrow, as if unsure of what to make of this.

"It's a Christmas present," the boy explained. "A little late, I know, but I thought it was better than nothing."

Perhaps his words were a bit rushed. He simply didn't want her to misunderstand.

…it wasn't like he enjoyed seeing how Granger had tensed the moment he brought out the package, and even more so, on hearing what it was.

"I see."

"Open it," he insisted, and so Sokaris did, revealing a silvery-colored box, inside of which—

"Whoa." Said reaction had come from Ernie, who was observing the goings-on, and whose eyes had bulged at the sight of the expensive-looking amulet – a reddish-purple stone the size of his thumb set in rose gold and wrapped with delicate vine-like filigree, on a delicate chain of the same, with runework so delicate it seemed like mere decoration, worked onto every bit of metal within it. "Is that…is that from _Henderson's_?" he asked.

"It is," Shinji confirmed, before turning back to the purple-haired girl a small smile. "I couldn't think of what else to get you, so I thought something practical would work. It…if you wear it, it will protect you from magical attacks intended for you. I…I think, the old man said was Alexandrite."

"A gemstone from Imperial Russia," Sokaris noted, nodding. "The symmetry is fitting."

"Well, it's the least I can do. Really," the boy said. "Thank you."

The purple-haired girl nodded, with Hermione Granger, seated beside them, looking on in horror as her friend took the amulet out of the box and fastened the chain about her neck.

"You…"

"It would be impolite to refuse, would it not?"

"But…"

Hermione did not get the chance to say what was on her mind, however, as Quirrell chose that very moment to begin the day's class.

"Greetings, and welcome back," the Defense Professor intoned cheerily. "It's good to see all of you, despite the circumstances of my late colleague's disappearance." He smiled, ever so slightly. "But perhaps it is not as unfortunate as all that. After all, while I don't wish to cast any aspersions on Professor Binns methods of instruction, well…" He chuckled. "I had the dubious honor of taking his class for seven years, so I know what you went through. As your new teacher for History, I'll warn you – there will be no sleeping in my class."

Several students began to chuckle, but they quickly grew silent when but Quirrell fixed them with a stare.

"You think this funny, Mister Malone?" he asked, singling out one of the Ravenclaws, who was certainly not laughing _now_.

"Um, n-no, no sir," the dark-haired boy stammered, his posture completely stiff, as if he was staring at a predator.

"Good, then I won't take off House points," the Professor replied, with Malone sagging in relief as Quirrell turned his attention back to the rest of the class. "But since I have students who seem to enjoy sleeping in class, perhaps I should see how much you remember from mine with an examination of sorts. Everyone, you can thank Mister Malone for this." If glares were killing curses, the aforementioned Mister Malone would have been dead at least a dozen times over, with over of the culprits coming from Ravenclaw, showing that there really no such thing as solidarity among one's houses. "Now, before you panic, don't worry, you won't need quill or parchment for this – that wouldn't be _practical_ after all."

Shinji's blood went cold as he realized what the Defense Professor was about to say.

"That's right, you'll be facing another scenario," Quirrell noted, as the room went dead silent. "Now, I realize that the first exercise traumatized a few of you, so let me give you some reassurances. First, there will be no Death Eaters in this scenario, nor a Dark Lord. Second, you will have your wands from the very beginning, so you may use all the magic you wish – provided that you know it, that is. Third…well, never mind that." He glanced about, noting that he had everyone's attention. "You will find out the details when you enter the scenario, but the summary of it is that you must navigate through a labyrinth of sorts, find the treasure hidden in the final room, and escape."

His eyes settled on Shinji then, with the boy wondering why it was that Quirrell was singling him out.

"I'm sure you're curious to know if you will be allowed a partner, or if I am asking you to complete this alone, yes?"

Shinji nodded, as did Ernie, next to him, while Sokaris remained utterly impassive.

"This scenario is to be completed in groups, as I wish to see not just your skills, but your teamwork," Quirrell supplied. "To test that, I am having you all attempt this with your partner from the first exercise. Following that attempt, no matter how it turns out, you may then use what you have learned in your second attempt – which you will do in groups of three, with the composition of those groups being up to you as long as the people chosen are in your year."

He smiled thinly.

"Mister Matou. Miss Granger," he intoned, looking from one to the other. "You have the honor of going first. Please come see me in my office after classes end for the day."

'… _oh no.'_


	41. Tenebrae

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 40.** _Tenebrae_

When he came to, he was falling.

Falling, falling, falling….falling.

Falling unceasingly, tumbling and twisting, plummeting through air and darkness, his wand only loosely clutched in his hand.

' _What…what happened?'_ the boy wondered, as he desperately tried to shake the fogginess from his brain. _'Where am I…?'_

And how did he even get here?

These details eluded him as he fumbled about haplessly, with nothing in sight, nothing to give him any sense of his surroundings, how he had gotten here, or what his ultimate fate would be. All he had was his wand, and that made him feel helpless, terrifying him like nothing else as he felt the wind rush by him, not knowing how long he had before he inevitably hit bottom.

…or what would be on the bottom.

A well of some kind? Spikes that would rip his body apart? Maybe a dangerous beast that would devour him whole, if he wasn't lucky?

He didn't know, and that lack of knowledge was driving him mad as the seconds ticked by, one after the next.

 _'I have to know...I have to know what's going on...I have to see. No matter how much I don't want to…'_

"Lumos!" he cried out, and the tip of his wand blazed with light, its harsh white glow illuminating his surroundings.

' _What.'_

Why…why was Granger here? Why was _she_ of all people falling through the air, too, flinching away from his wand and thrashing about?

' _Wait. She's flinching because I just blinded her,'_ he realized, for that was the natural consequence of having a very bright light thrust into one's face when one was used to pitch darkness. _'She didn't do this do me then. Not if she's here. But then who, why, wha—…?'_

 _Whump!_

A sudden impact with something surprisingly soft – at least, soft enough that his bones weren't shattered immediately – knocked the air from his lungs and interrupted his train of thought, with the boy losing his grip on his wand.

"Ugh…" he groaned, shaking his head. "What the hell…"

What had he landed on? What was it that had broken his fall?

' _Huh…vines?'_

What was a plant doing this far underground, where there was no light? Not that he wasn't thankful or anything, but it just seemed odd.

"Not that I'm going to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything but…"

He shook his head, and tried to get up…only to find that he couldn't. Or rather, in trying to get up, he stumbled, tripping and falling on his face because _there was something holding onto his legs._

' _What the hell….'_

Vines. It was the vines, and… _huh. When had Granger gotten this close to him?_ In tripping, he'd fallen on top of her, with his face buried in her hair, which smelled like cinnamon and vanilla – not the brimstone or chalkdust that he'd expected.

She sighed then, her breath tickling his ears, and the boy shuddered at the…intimate position he'd somehow ended up in with… _her_.

' _No. Just no.'_

He tried to prop himself up, only to find that her arms were…her arms had somehow ended up around him, a thought that made him want to vomit…though not on her, as he doubted she would appreciate that.

' _Why…?'_ he wondered, before coming to the logical conclusion that she'd probably come down at the wrong angle and hit her head, since otherwise she'd be screaming her head off at the notion of him being anywhere near her.

Vines were creeping over her too, though they weren't grasping terribly hard.

' _Wait…I know this plant.'_

Devil's Snare.

A magical plant with the ability to constrict or strangle anything in its surrounding environment or something that happened to touch it – and which preferred dark, damp environments.

If it was Devil's Snare, then…

" _Nox_ ," he whispered, as the distant illumination from his fallen wand went out. " _Incendio_!"

Shinji blinked as he felt the plant _recoil_ in the wake of the fire-making spell being used, with a shudder that could be felt through the vines grasping his legs.

He hadn't realized a plant could feel pain, but if it could…that made things easier.

So he thought as he flicked his wrist just so, allowing his backup wand of holly and phoenix feather to fall into his hand.

" _Incendio!"_ he cried out, aiming for another section of the plant, this one closer to him, as the tendrils around his legs slackened their grip, allowing him to stand.

Granger was at his feet, and still insensate – it would be so easy to just leave her here, and after all she had done to him, she practically deserved it, but—

' _No. Whoever did this to us, I'm not letting them win that easily. She may be a slag, but she's good with spells. She'd better be…'_

If Quirrell was her mentor, then certainly having her around would be valuable.

' _Fine. If it were just up to me, I wouldn't save you, since I know you would leave me to my death but…I'm better than that.'_

He had to be.

Miyuki-senpai had set that example for him first, after all, making sure that her enemies didn't die needlessly.

And so, cursing under his breath, he knelt at her side, setting his wand down after a cast of _Lumos_ as he activated the enchantments on his wand-holster, allowing a knife – a copy of the one strapped to the holster – to fall into his waiting hand.

"Granger," he called out, by she didn't respond. Well, not really, save to moan in pain. "Granger," he called again, but the result was the same. "I'm going to cut you free," he said. "Don't panic."

It took a bit of doing, but eventually, he got her free – and it was just his luck that the girl seemed to come to full awareness with him looming over him with a knife, at which point, she _screamed_ , much as he'd feared.

 _'At least her lungs are healthy,'_ he mused, jumping backwards to avoid getting his face clawed off by her fingers, or his eyes gouged out, noting with some annoyance that her erratic movements had brought the sharp edge of his knife against her arm, slashing through fabric and—

 _'Huh?'_

Save for the residue of the plant he'd cut up, the knife was clean, with none of her blood on it. Her sleeve had torn, true, but under it, he couldn't see skin, wounded or otherwise, only _scales._

 _'Is that...basilisk skin?'_ he asked himself incredulously, even as he recognized the material. This...this had to be worth a fortune. No, it _was_ worth a fortune, so where had she gotten it?

"Granger, snap out of it before you hurt yourself, or I'm going to leave you behind!" he snapped, not wanting to deal with her flailing about as he pushed himself upright.

Hermione stopped screaming and blinked, as if finding what he said alien and incomprehensible.

"You...you're not going to finish what you started?" she whispered, swallowing.

"Finish..."

"Pushing me down, taking a knife to my robes? I'm not stupid, Matou!" she cried out, her voice frenzied, hysterical.

Shinji, beginning to question Granger's sanity by now, looked over to where his wand was, and began to wonder, if he moved quickly, could he reach it before she did.

"Look, I don't know what you're imagining, but we fell into a tangle of Devil's Snare, after being dropped here by someone," the boy said tersely, with the girl's expression freezing as his words sank in. "You dropped your wand. I cut you free. Now can we please get out of here before something else tries to kill us, or are we going to make it easy for them by offing each other?"

"I dropped…my wand?" she repeated uncertainly, seeming to note the wand beside her.

"Yes, that's what I said," he said impatiently. Making up his mind, he darted forward, noting with some satisfaction that his movement made her flinch – flinch away from the wand he scooped up. "This one is mine. One of mine. I was using it to keep you safe from the Snare. Why don't you find yours so that you're not just a burden?"

"I...I'll find mine," she said stiffly. He offered her a hand to help her to her feet, but she refused. "It's...somewhere here?"

She didn't seem certain, and anyway, somewhere wasn't exactly very specific.

"...just cast a spell. You'll find it easier that way." He growled. "In the meantime, I'll hold off the vines."

That and pick up his other wand, so she didn't realize he had _two._

' _We might be on the same side for now, but it wouldn't hurt to have a holdout in case she does turn on me. I can't trust her.'_

And so she started to look, using _Lumos_ and _Incendio_ to try and pinpoint where the wand was from how the plant was reacting. This was not a quick process, as it wasn't nearby and the Devil's Snare covered quite an area, and took even longer because she kept turning to look back at him, as if not trusting that he wouldn't curse her while her back was turned.

He grew annoyed this and took to shadowing her movements, so that the next time she twisted about, her face was mere centimeters from his.

"Eep!" she cried out upon turning to find him so close to her, promptly proceeding to fall on her arse – or rather, she would have, had he not caught her against his chest and helped her steady herself – something she was not at all grateful for.

' _Maybe I really should have just left her to die,'_ Shinji thought to himself, even as he cast a few jets of flame to keep the vines back.

"Look, if I'd wanted you dead, you would be," the boy said, his voice harsh. "You're more valuable to me alive and able to fend for yourself, so can you please hurry up with the wand getting so we can be getting out of here?" Shinji snapped, with Granger's face hardening as she seemed to steady herself.

"Fine," she all but spat in his face. "It's not like I asked you to save me or anything."

The boy amused himself by imagining Granger turning away with a huff, and muttering the word "baka", as tsunderes did in anime at times. Though that would make her a tsundere and this one those situations that could lead to a…

' _Nope. Nope. Nope. Let's not think about that.'_

Certain subjects were best avoided for his sanity.

A small eternity later, the girl finally found her wand, and so, with him providing light and her providing fire, they were able to finally escape the massive patch of Devil's Snare, which had to be dozens of meters across.

He'd offered to let her produce light, while he took on the more difficult role of burning away the vines, but she was apparently unwilling to trust him with a weapon in his hand _even though she'd already been doing that all this time._

 _'I really, really don't understand girls,'_ he thought to himself, knowing better than to say it aloud. _'It's not like I'm going to hurt her. I need her alive.'_

At the very least, because she was an extra body to throw at whatever had brought them here, though he hoped she'd be more useful than that.

' _Otherwise, what was the point in keeping her alive?'_

For now though, her presence was tolerable enough, as she was quiet and _seemed_ observant enough, though how long that would last, he didn't know.

They walked for a time through a vast cavern, so vast that he couldn't see the edges of it with the scant illumination from his wand.

He was tempted to pull out his second, but decided against it, since he didn't want to give away one of his possible trump cards yet, in case she did betray him.

…especially as it seemed the seemingly interminable cave was not quite interminable, with the wall coming into view.

Most of it was mirror smooth, unblemished – quite unnatural to anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention – giving Shinji pause.

' _Is this some kind of magical labyrinth? Did I get kidnapped by a magus?'_

The boy felt a shiver go down his spine at the thought. If that was the case…he didn't know what he would do? Did he share this bit of information with Granger? No…then she'd ask him how he knew this, and say he was a monster all along. That wouldn't work. But if he didn't tell her…

' _There has to be something I can do. Something that will keep us both alive…'_

While he held a wand in one hand, his other patted his pockets to see if there was anything in them. He was in his finest attire for some reason – the stuff crafted by _The Duelist's Wardrobe –_ so he certainly had them, and inside…

' _Huh…my glasses? And a vial…'_

He snuck the vial out of his pocket to find that it was filled with a warm, golden liquid – _Felix Felicis._

'… _it has to be a magus then. A practitioner of witchcraft would have searched me, stripped me of this vial, at least.'_

With _this…_ with _this_ he might be able to survive whatever horrors this place had.

…well, for two hours, anyway.

Any more than that and he'd be back to being regular old Shinji, armed with his wands, a knife, and glasses that wouldn't do much good against plants or magical creatures.

"What do you think happened?" Granger asked, breaking the silence. "Why are we here? Together?"

"…a dark…practitioner of witchcraft with a sick sense of humor?" the boy joked, only for the witch with him to take offense.

"Why does it have to be a witch?" she shot back, somewhat miffed at his implication. "Why couldn't it be a wizard?"

"You mean, a male practitioner of witchcraft?" Shinji clarified. "I suppose it could be."

"Why don't you just call it wizardry?" Hermione asked with some exasperation. "We go to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after all. At least use the right name."

"But it's not the right name," the boy argued. "It's not wizardry."

"What do you mean it's not the right name?" the girl countered testily. "Who are you to say that? You're a first year."

"So are you," the Matou scion pointed out peevishly.

"T-that's not the point!" Hermione insisted. "I'm trying to tell you what the right answer is."

"And I'm saying it's not the right answer."

"But it's in all the books!"

Shinji just _looked_ at the girl.

"One, I don't really care," he stated bluntly. "Two, is this really the time to be correcting me on something as minor as this, Granger?"

"…I just wanted you to use the right name," she grumbled petulantly, but let the subject drop for now.

The boy would have said something back, but restrained himself, since he knew Granger – like him – was probably very much on edge, and worse, had no idea why.

With no better ideas, they walked along the edge of the cavern, thinking that there had to be an opening somewhere, and eventually, came across a crevice just wide enough for one of them to fit through at a time.

Holding up his hand to the crevice, he felt a bit of a breeze, something that got his hopes up.

"There's something through here," the boy said, with Hermione blinking.

"How do you know?"

"Air. It's moving."

"Oh, so there's a pressure difference, meaning there's another room or so."

"…yes," Shinji stated. "Let's follow it. It's not like we have any other leads."

"After you then."

And so, with only a minimum of grumbling, the boy proceeded into the crevice, following it down, down, down, with only his wand lighting the way. They followed it as it sloped downward, twisted, doubled back, and finally, after a sharp bend, seemed to open out onto a room.

A room lined with webs, with a giant spider the size of a horse lurking in its very center.

A spider that had noticed them, and was rushing at the crevice.

"Fall back!" he barked out, almost running over Granger as he backpedaled, with the girl letting out an undignified squawk.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

His reply was a single word: "Acromantula."

That was what these creatures were called, and supposedly, there had once been a nest of such creatures around Hogwarts. Not that Matou Shinji, of all people, would know one way or the other - what reason would a first year have to know about conditions in the Forbidden Forest? Still, how could he hope to defeat such a creature?

"So, Granger, any bright ideas?" he asked aloud, wondering how he might face such a creature with what he had.

Should he just stay in the crevice and attack it with spells? Realistically, he couldn't really expect that first-year spells would be enough to stop it.

He supposed he could run out there, get out close and try to blast it in the face, where it would be most vulnerable? Maybe jam his wand into its mouth and blow it apart? No, getting up close and personal with a spider the size of a horse, which could probably knock him down and break his bones - not to mention poison him - sounded like an utterly moronic idea. An idea worthy of Phelan, really.

Perhaps he could use _Verdimillious_ to blind it? Spiders had eight eyes, and they couldn't really blink, so the effect would be pronounced, right?

"I…don't know," the brunette replied. "I…well, you saw what I was wearing. It probably can't bite through that, but my head isn't protected, so if it gets me..."

"…yeah, that's a problem."

Shinji's fingers slipped into his pocket, grasping the vial hidden there.

"What?" Hermione asked, noting the odd expression on his face. "What are you thinking?"

In response, the boy took the vial from his pocket and showed it to her.

"I'd hoped not to have to use this but..."

Granger's breath hitched, with the girl sharply inhaling at the sight of the vial. "Is that…?"

"Yes, it's _Felix Felicis_ ," the boy confirmed, removing the stopper and pouring half of it into his mouth. "Two hours' worth of it. Well, one for each of us, now."

"...and you're giving this to me why?"

"Because, as I've said from the beginning, you're more valuable to me alive than dead," he replied. "I don't really like you, but you don't deserve to die here. We're going to get out. Together."

"You…"

The girl half-glared, half…gazed at him, uncertain if she was supposed to be angry or touched, before deciding that it was too trouble to think about and all but snatching the vial out of his hands, downing what was left of the potion in a single gulp.

"…thanks," she muttered, looking away.

"See, you can use manners if you try," Shinji ribbed – but very gently, only enough to get her to look indignant. "Let's go."

* * *

And so they did, lobbing two Verdimillious orbs around the corner where the giant spider was still prowling at the exit of the crevice, detonating them one after the next, releasing an explosion of green-white light that blinded the spider.

It couldn't close any of its eight eyes, after all, and so was quite dazed.

Dazed enough for Shinji to stab it in the face with knife enchanted by a _flagrante_ curse, burned out one of its eyes, before producing a second, which went into its front right leg joint.

The boy dodged out of the way of a desperate swipe, his knife slamming home again and again as the spider _screeched_ , rearing back in pain.

Hermione followed up with the levitation charm – _Wingardium Leviosa_ – lifting several of the knives he'd left behind and using it to slash at the spider over and over, with the cursed knife swarm ripping apart its leg joints, slicing into its abdomen, and otherwise hurting it over and over as it wailed and screamed, until all that remained was abdomen and cephalothorax, with pincers removed and legs all amputated.

"Can you finish it?" she asked, taking pity on the creature, which was trying to speak to them.

"No…why…why wizards…"

"Yes," Shinji replied firmly, walking up to the trembling wreck of the spider, jamming his wand into its mouth, and releasing a dark cloud into it, a living curse that burned it alive from the inside out.

It took a good few minutes, but at last the beast was dead.

"...curses," she noted tonelessly. "You used curses."

"What was it that Professor Quirrell always says?" the boy remarked calmly – perhaps a bit too calmly. "'There is no such thing as good or evil, only power and those too weak to seek it.'"

"But why…what are curses useful for, other than hurting people?" Hermione asked, her breath escaping in a long, angry exhale. "Or that knife – those knives which burned their way into the spider. _Flagrante,_ right _?"_

"It worked, didn't it?" Shinji replied evenly. "Besides, you didn't seem to have any qualms when you were slicing it to pieces with my knives."

"I…"

"Face it, you're just as guilty as I am," the Matou scion noted. "From now on, we're accomplices, you and I."

"I – I never!" she replied, her wand leveled at his midsection. "I'm not your accomplice. I'm not like you!"

"Yet you're alive because of my potion," the boy said mildly. "And my curses. And you know that, because otherwise…those knives are still on the ground."

Granger's face was…definitely something to watch as emotions, reactions, warred with each other, though after a long minute or two, she lowered her wand.

"Fine. Let's continue," she said, with the two gingerly avoiding the webs and finding a tunnel hidden by them. "Don't think this means I forgive you, Matou."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Miss Croft?" came the reply.

The girl flinched, almost stumbling into the wall at his words.

"Wh-wha…"

"Look, don't try to deny it," Shinji muttered tiredly. "I know it was you at the Ball."

"H-how did you—"

"I'm not stupid, Granger," the boy snarked, shaking his head. "Same hair color. Same eye color. That, plus you said your teacher brought you – and then when I saw you from the dance floor, you were talking to Quirrell."

"T-that doesn't mean anything," Hermione protested.

"Except for the fact that you chose the name Croft," the Japanese practitioner replied. "It's a pseudonym of Grange, you know?"

"I…you…you looked up _my name_?" she asked incredulously. "Wha-why?"

"…because I was interested, that's all," the boy remarked, words which made the girl stiffen, her cheeks going slightly pink – though of course, she wouldn't admit it if asked.

"I see," she noted, letting out another sigh. "Matou."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"During the fight, your wand was still glowing, casting _Lumos_."

"Yes?"

The girl narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, her hair disheveled.

"How could you cast the _flagrante_ spell when your wand is already being used for light?" she asked, picking out something which in the aftermath, seemed like a massive oversight. "Matou…do you have a second wand?"

"…"

"You do, don't you…?" she realized, startled. "You…what secrets are you hiding?" Granger demanded.

"Well, if I told you, they wouldn't be secrets anymore, would they?" the boy quipped, before shaking his head. "We're wasting time. The effects of Felix Felicis won't last forever, and I have no idea how big this cave is. Hopefully soon, we find water. An underground river or something."

"…I could use a drink myself," Granger admitted. "You wouldn't have a canteen or something, would you?"

"Why would I?"

"You had Liquid Luck!" she exclaimed. "If you had something that rare, why not something with water."

"You think I expected to end up here? Thrown into whatever this is?!"

"…no, I…sorry," Granger said, looking away.

"It's fine. I – I shouldn't have snapped at you," the boy replied, shaking his head. "It's just. I just hope we get out of here alive."

"…me too," the brunette Ravenclaw admitted. "That reminds me. Matou."

"What?"

"…thanks."

"For what?"

"You know."

"Do I?"

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

"Well, how will I know what you're thanking me for unless you say it properly," Shinji chided.

"…fine," Hermione huffed. "Thanks. For saving me. Even if you're partially to blame for blinding me in the first place."

"If you're going to thank me, thank me, don't…" the boy sighed. "Anyway, fine. You're welcome."

* * *

The underground ruins they passed though after that were interesting.

Surprisingly, there _was_ water, and plenty of it.

Mazes full of it, with mechanisms for raising and lowering water levels, environmental hazards like whirlpools and fast-moving currents to navigate, puzzles to be solved, and an assortment of dangerous creatures that ranged from Fire Crabs to Acromantulae, from Pogrebins to Gytrashes.

Some were simple, some were extremely convoluted - some they handled with ease, others by the skin of their teeth.

But somehow, thanks to the power of Liquid Luck, they survived.

Still, by the time they found themselves in a chamber whose far wall was dominated by a grand door that seemed very ornate and very solid, with no threats in sight, the two were fairly exhausted, and they could feel that the exhilaration of the potion that had brought them this far had mostly faded.

…if it hadn't already faded, that was.

"You alright, Granger?" Shinji asked, with the brunette nodding tiredly.

"Not injured, just…tired," she said with a yawn she tried to cover up.

"You're not the only one. Those puzzles...whoever designed them was a real…"

"…that's right," the Ravenclaw agreed. "Can we…can we sit down for a bit? I don't see anything dangerous around."

"We might as well. We've been pushing ourselves," the boy remarked, proceeding to do as his partner had suggested. "My legs…ugh…I almost got dragged under. Good thing you knew the seize and pull charm."

"Well, you stopped the Grindylows that almost killed me, so…"

Shinji snorted. It was hard to believe this was _Granger_ he was talking to like this. That beyond just having a pleasant, if competitive, conversation, they had saved each other's lives – willingly, at that.

' _But I guess that's what happens when you have a common enemy,'_ the Hufflepuff mused, shaking his head. _'She's…not that bad once you get used to her. Surprisingly.'_

There was a silence for a time, and then…

"…You're not the monster I thought you were either," Hermione murmured, with Shinji stiffening. Had he said that last bit aloud? "Yes. You talk to yourself when you're tired," she noted.

"I'll…keep that in mind," the boy remarked. And he would, because that was something that could get him killed if he was careless about it. "Sorry, if it bothered you."

"Don't be."

They rested side by side, sitting against the wall for a while, with one lightly dozing and then the other, recovering their strength for whatever lay ahead. And when they were ready, they got up and walked towards the door, examining the area around it.

There was no handle for the door, no keyhole, no obvious mechanism to open it.

" _Alohomora,"_ Hermione intoned, attempting the unlocking spell, but nothing happened.

Shinji, looking around a bit more, noticed something: two engraved platforms, one on either side of the door.

"Maybe we should stand on these," he said, with the Ravenclaw girl nodding.

The boy moved to stand on one of the platforms, noting as he did that a portion of the wall lit up, except for a pattern that looked like a handprint.

"Here goes nothing," Shinji muttered, leaning over and putting his hand on the wall, only nothing happened.

"Maybe we both need to try?" Hermione asked, stepping on the platform on the other side and placing her hand on the indicated spot on the wall.

This time, there was an effect, a deep _kerchunk_ echoing through the chamber, as some ancient mechanism activated, and slowly, agonizingly so, the doors swung inwards, as inviting them to enter.

The two looked at each other and nodded, drawing their wands in case of an ambush.

But the chamber, vast and cavernous as it was, seemed empty, save for a mirror against the wall at the far side of the room, a glowing mirror casting a strange sort of illumination into the room.

"Is this…it?" Shinji wondered aloud. "A dead end?"

"No," Granger said, or he thought it was Granger, only when he turned to his left to look, he saw that the Granger who had spoken was wreathed in shadow, with miasma bleeding off of her.

"What the…?"

' _Wait. Granger was on my_ right.'

The boy threw himself backwards, knocking Hermione to the ground just in time to avoid a spell-beam to the face, even as he noted that behind the _real_ Hermione, there was a copy of him.

"What was that—"

"Doppelgangers!" the boy cried out, with the Ravenclaw girl squeaking in horror as she caught sight of, well… _herself._

"Hello, _me_ ," the false Hermione spoke, before launching a barrage of blue light their way.

 _Flipendo Tria –_ whirlwinds of force that sent Matou Shinji flying, even as Hermione was unmoved, given her basilisk skin armor.

"Stupefy!" Hermione – the real Hermione – called out, a red beam of light lancing through the air to strike her doppelganger, but to no effect. "Wha…?"

"Did you think you were the only one wearing basilisk armor?" the false Ravenclaw smirked. " _Glacius_!"

Against a blast of air cold enough to literally freeze her face off, Hermione could do little but dodge, rolling out of the way.

Meanwhile, Shinji, who had been thrown against the wall, groaned as he saw his doppelganger approaching him, knife in hand.

" _Flipendo_!" he intoned, sending a jet of blue light streaking at the other, only for the fake Shinji to side-step.

Shinji was about to cast again, when he felt himself thrown to aside.

Pain.

There was a pain in his chest, burning hot.

' _Oh god…'_

A knife, cursed with _Flagrante._

' _Oh god.'_

Pain ran through him, searing his skin, his muscles, his nerves.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't…

All he could do was watch, as the Hermione dueled her copy, with the false Shinji having conjured another knife, a knife which raised itself into the air—

" _ **NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"**_

As the knife struck Hermione's head from behind and she went down, a look of shock frozen on her face, Shinji felt something in himself _break,_ every last ounce of restraint he had vanishing as the world tore itself apart in, and the world of the labyrinth – the false world woven of illusions – vanished in shadow and flame.

* * *

When Matou Shinji awoke, he found himself laying in a bed in the Hogwarts hospital wing, looking up at a rather familiar ceiling.

' _What…happened?'_ he asked himself, turning to see – to his utter astonishment – Hermione in the bed next to him, _alive_. _'What the hell?'_

And then it hit him.

'… _Quirrell's examination.'_

"That…" he croaked. "That was…a test?"

"That is correct, Mister Matou," a very familiar voice replied, with the Defense Professor's form becoming visible as he dismissed his disillusionment spell. "The practical examination I promised."

"I…I didn't know…"

"You were not intended to. The Book placed a block on your memory so that you would not remember how you came to be there. I thought the test would be more…realistic if you believed yourself to truly be in a life or death situation."

"You…" That…doing something like that. "How could you…"

"You agreed to it, Mister Matou," the Professor told him. "You signed paperwork saying you understood and accepted the risks."

"…and Granger?"

"Funny, isn't it, how when you had to work with her, she wasn't actually unreasonable, was she?" Quirrell inquired. "And to think, you almost passed."

"I…we did all _that_ and we didn't _pass?"_

Sure, they had been defeated by the Shadows, but they'd fought off Acromantulae, puzzled out the inner workings of the water temple's mazes, saved each other time and time again…

"Frankly, I'm surprised you got as far as you did on your first attempt," the man admitted. "But then, I suppose that is the power of _Felix Felicis._ Well, that and your surprising level of teamwork. Still, you were beaten, and so you do not pass."

Shinji groaned.

"…how is anyone supposed to—"

"You aren't," the Professor outright stated. "Not this first time. Not in your first true exposure to what you believe to be a life or death situation. As I said, you may take what you learn from this into your next challenge – what will effectively be your final exam."

"Was it…did you really have to…"

"Yes."

"And what if we had passed? What if, somehow, we had won against our Shadows, and found the object?"

Quirrell chuckled softly.

"Should you have done the near impossible, then you would be done with Defense for this year, Mister Matou, except for private lessons, if you wished," the man stated simply. "What I mean by you almost passed was that your performance was nearly enough to allows you to pass out of my class entirely."

"What."

"I believe you understood me the first time."

"Then…why?"

"Because this world is far more dangerous than the Ministry will admit to, Mister Matou, as you and I know far too well, and it is far better for you to have your first experience with this sort of danger in a situation where death is not truly the end." The man sighed, making a complicated face. "There are some of you in my class who may have already had such an experience. Two of them in particular, I believe will likely complete this exercise, doing what is only theoretically possible for most." Quirrell smiled very thinly. "Still, I think you accomplished enough. You learned things about yourself…and Miss Granger. Speaking of which, your words seem to have touched her – which is good, as she is so often alone. Still, I wonder which one of you affected the other more: did you touch her, or did she touch you?"

"…w-what makes you say that, Professor?"

"You tore apart the world when you saw her die," Quirrell replied. "And as you did once, you attempted to destroy the one responsible for that world. Me."

"What? I…" Shinji's mouth went dry at the revelation. "I didn't…"

"It is fine, Mister Matou, I don't take offense," the Professor noted. "In fact, I find myself rather…touched by how much she came to mean that much to you in just a few hours."

"She—"

"—was your accomplice, yes," the man said gently. "A word with many meanings, Mister Matou, and many possibilities."

"Is she—?"

"She suffered from minor burns, but they have since been treated," Quirrell replied. "Madame Pomfrey believed her well enough to be released, but in this occasion, I overruled her."

"Why?"

"Because I believed that seeing her when you woke would bring you peace. Was I wrong?"

Before Shinji could say anything more, the man's face and figure vanished once more, with the boy collapsing back into bed and glancing over at Granger's sleeping form, finding that – even though what had happened had transpired in a false world, that the connection they'd made…was real.

' _Good night, G…Hermione,'_ he thought to himself as he lay his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

And just before he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard a faint "Goodnight."


	42. Eye of the Storm

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 41.** _Eye of the Storm_

Over the next month, amid the ongoing investigation into the disappearance of Binns – as well as the new one regarding the circumstances behind Professor Dumbledore's prolonged absence, several things provided a backbone of regularity for Matou Shinji. The assignments that other teachers gave out, the double sessions of history, time spent in the greenhouses with Miyuki-senpai, and of course, the Quidditch games that some of his fellows dragged him to – games which in part made up for the lack of History as his "naptime" elective, since Slytherin dominated the matches time after time.

For the other students, the clockwork nature of the meals, and the fact that everyone was trying so hard to pretend that everything was just fine played into their need to believe that things were ok – would be ok, as long as they went to class, did their homework, and abided by the usual rules that students ought to.

Yes – everything seemed to work towards that end – except of course, the practical examinations that Quirrell so thoughtfully arranged for his students, with students receiving summons to his office at all hours of the day and night to undergo their trials.

Some were excited to face whatever Quirrell had concocted. Some looked upon the exam with trepidation and fear, remembering the first scenario they had all gone through long ago.

Yet almost without exception, their moods were quite somber afterwards, their expressions seeming lost, as they staggered out of the Professor's office in a daze, as if wondering if they were seeing was reality, or if what they had experienced was reality, and this but a waking dream.

After a while, some more curious individuals took to waiting in the corridor outside the Professor's office to see if anyone ever emerged with a look of triumph, only to find that there were none – at least, none they witnessed.

Even those who saw the countenance of Sialim Sokaris after she and Nigel had finished their examination could report only that her expression had been decidedly neutral, without any hint of excitement, surprise, or disappointment whatsoever. Her partner, Nigel Wroxton, had also not had a recognizable expression on his face, but in his case, that was due to being unconscious, with his body trailing in the air behind the purple-haired girl as she walked back to Ravenclaw Tower.

As more and more attempted the trial, some began to talk, comparing notes about what they had faced.

It quickly became apparent to them that while there were no Death Eaters in this one, as Quirrell had promised, the challenge was an order of magnitude more difficult than that which had been held at the start of the fall term.

The first had tested how they reacted in a dangerous situation when stripped of their magic and rendered helpless. In that scenario, they had been 'kidnapped' and locked into a room in a safehouse full of Death Eaters who intended to use them for some ritual sacrifice. There had been a good deal of time pressure and psychological stress from the setting, but in theory it had been more than possible to escape, if one kept a level head.

This one, however, was not nearly so simple, as the only way out was through.

Through the monsters in their way, the traps that impeded their progress, and the malevolent intelligence of the labyrinth itself.

There was no way to simply avoid the dangers before them, as some had done with the Death Eater scenario, nor were their spells powerful enough to fight head on, so some mental dexterity was required if one desired any chance at progression.

And so two by two, the students attempted the challenge, and two by two, found themselves wanting, though no two in quite the same way.

By the time the students had cycled through the exam, and the Professor was finally willing to post the results – in the form of rankings and causes of failure, a month had passed. It was already the day before Valentine's Day, and for those lucky enough to be third years and up with signed permission slips, a Hogsmeade weekend.

Nevertheless, after dinner, the entirety of the first years of Hogwarts piled into Quirrell's classroom, listening to what from any other teacher would have been taken as meaningless platitudes about how they needed to work harder, but from _him_ was taken dead seriously, because _not_ performing to his expectations meant suffering a great of public humiliation.

Or, if he was not in a merciful mood – a terrible death in one of his scenarios.

"So I encourage you to do better," he was saying, even now. "None of you in this room, despite being students of Hogwarts, the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in all of Britain, were able to complete the trial set forth. Had you been in an actual life or death situation, well, then this room would be empty, as you would all be dead."

The group was silent as the man finished speaking, and with a flourish, caused a long scroll with the names of every team to attempt to trial to appear.

At the top of the list, in great golden letters, next to an outsized **1,** were the names of Matou Shinji and Hermione Granger, who were listed as having been "struck down by cursed knives."

In silver letters, next to a more reasonably sized **2,** were Amber and Phelan, with Phelan being listed as having drowned, and Amber as "being unable to progress."

The third and fourth slots were occupied by some Slytherins, while Natsumi and Ernie were in fifth, with Ernie having apparently been "crushed by a trap", while Natsumi had been mauled to death by a Pogrebin.

Selina Moore and Yatin Bhagat, the boy who had apparently been her partner in the first exam, had ended up in eighth, with Yatin being killed by an Acromantula, and Selina having been trapped in a flooding chamber – leading to a death by drowning.

On and on the list went, looking more like a casualty report than any true ranking, though as the boy read through the names and causes of death, he found that two names – Sialim Sokaris and Nigel Wroxton – names that he had been looking for – weren't there.

Indeed, as he glanced about, Shinji found that the owners of those names weren't even in the room with them.

And just as he was about to ask where they were—

"Professor," Granger spoke up, preempting his query. Apparently, she'd noticed the same thing – not exactly a surprise, given how much she revered Sokaris. "Where are Sokaris and Wroxton?"

"Yeah..." a few others muttered. "Where are they?

"Don't tell me they did so badly they were kicked out of the class," Shinji heard Zacharias Smith mutter, with the obnoxious Hufflepuff apparently trying to speak softly enough that the Japanese boy wouldn't hear him. "Quirrell did say that everyone in first year Defense was required to come tonight…"

Unfortunately for poor Zacharias, he failed, with the boy finding himself on the receiving end of death glares from not just Shinji, but also Hermione Granger.

"Curious about them, are you, Mister Smith? All I can say is that their scores are none of your concern, as they are no longer in this class," Quirrell replied, with Shinji freezing at the man's words.

' _What?'_

Had Sokaris really done so badly as to—

"So they really did…" Zacharias murmured, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile, or beginning to as—

"Ah, I believe have the wrong idea, Mister Smith, but then, I am not surprised. You are, after all, a Hufflepuff who was crushed to death by Devil's Snare," the man said with some amusement, with Zacharias going red with indignation, as others around him laughed. He wanted to argue, to protest, to shout that if the test had been fair, then— "Ten points from Hufflepuff."

"...wh…at?" the boy looked stricken, his expression almost as if someone had kneed him between the legs. No, not almost. Shinji was quite sure of that, having seen what Smith's face looked like in the wake of _that_ particular injury.

"You were about to say something rather foolish, which would have resulted in me taking away house points," Quirrell explained, his expression almost kind, if one didn't look at his eyes. "So I took the liberty of saving you the effort."

"What happened to them, Professor?" Granger asked, more respectfully. "Why aren't they here tonight?" She paused, glancing at where Zacharias Smith looked like he was about to faint. No – hadn't fainted, just thrown up out of humiliation, with people backing away from him. "If you can tell us, that is."

Quirrell muttered something under his breath and snapped his fingers, with a House Elf appearing to vanish the mess, before disappearing once more.

"Ah, where was I? Oh yes – they are no longer part of this class, as I believe I explained to Mister Smith," the Defense Professor noted, not unkindly. "As to the why, well, their performance speaks for itself, really."

"Then…"

"Isn't it obvious, Miss Granger? They are not on this list because they – and they alone out of all in my first-year classes – successfully completed the challenge posed to them, thus proving that they have mastered everything the first curriculum has to offer them," Quirrell remarked. "And where some of you only performed as well as you did through the help of certain…shall we say, magical supplements, they needed none to surpass those who did."

Zacharias Smith's face could have been carved out of marble with how stiff it was, and how pale.

"But…that's not—"

"Ten more points from Hufflepuff, Mister Smith. Do go on, I'm sure your housemates would appreciate you devaluing all of their hard work. You have already rendered the efforts of Mister Matou, Miss Suzuki, and Mister Macmillan meaningless in terms of contributions towards winning the House Cup. I dare say it would be a fascinating study to see just how much damage one student can do to a House's standing, hm?"

Wisely, Smith chose not to reply – or rather, he couldn't reply, due to having collapsed from the shock.

Despite how he had singlehanded cratered their standings in the race for the Cup, his classmates looked upon the boy with some concern.

"Um...Professor," Susan Bones spoke up uneasily. "Shouldn't we…do something?"

"Ah, the famous compassion of your House. Five points _to_ Hufflepuff for being brave enough to ask, Miss Bones," Quirrell said. "Still, I believe the only thing injured is his fragile pride, and as I have only a bit more to cover, let us go on and I will see to him afterwards."

"As you say, Professor."

"Well then, you were all curious as to how you did, compared to the rest. Now you know. And now that you have seen how everyone else did, you may wish to think about who will be on your team for the final exam. Do keep in mind, however, that if you wish to work with Miss Sokaris or Mister Wroxton, the challenge you will be attempting will be an order of magnitude more difficult than the one you faced – and failed – to complete. I am a teacher, after all, and there would no meaning in having them go through the motions of a test they have already passed. Dismissed."

* * *

In the wake of Quirrell's…debriefing, including the man's warning about the consequences of adding Sokaris or Wroxton to a team to let them pass without extra effort, Shinji found that quite a few people were sending him notes, asking if he wanted to be part of their team, or alternatively, offering to "compare notes" on how they had done – which Shinji took to mean, they wanted to know what dangers came after those that had killed them.

A few girls even wanted to meet with him over dinner tomorrow, something he was a bit leery of, given that it would be Valentine's Day.

He didn't exactly want chocolate from people who just felt like they were obliged to give him something as a classmate – or did people in the West do that?

' _Valentine's Day came from the West, so they must, right?'_

Or maybe not.

Either way, it would probably be better just to spend the day with friends. People who he knew well. People who wouldn't be seeking to toy with his feelings for no good reason.

' _Amber did say something about a picnic by the lake, and Natsumi mentioned wanting to try something new in the kitchens, so maybe I'll have the house-elves make us something for a noon-time picnic. It would be a nice change.'_

It wasn't as if he could just spend the day in Miyuki-senpai's greenhouse, as she apparently had some business to attend to, though what it might be he didn't know – and frankly, didn't want to know.

* * *

Getting everything arranged had been easier said than done, sadly, and when Shinji said he was skipping lunch to go on a picnic with Amber and Natsumi, he found that more than a few of his housemates threw him strange looks – something which confused him a great deal. It was just a picnic with friends – friends he had kissed by accident, admittedly, but still – friends.

He had to admit, the elves did a good job with the _karaage_ he'd ordered, and the potato salad was sublime, though the fried tomatoes were a bit strange. Not to mention the so-called fried butterbeer, which was apparently a ravioli-like pastry shell filled with the stuff, and then submerged in oil for all of 20 seconds.

It tasted good, that he couldn't deny – though on the other hand, the pastries looked somewhat discoloured.

And then there was what Natsumi had dubbed the "fried picnic", skewers of chicken, potatoes, and pickles, all breaded and deep fried.

That too had been…unusual, but tasty all the same, reminding him of Christmas in Japan, though he'd never had something quite this eclectic.

' _I'm beginning to think you can fry almost anything, really…'_

All washed down with hot chocolate of all things.

Shinji had thought it odd, but Amber had insisted, and the boy knew better than to argue with her when it came to something like this.

Something about how she always had hot cocoa during picnics, from a family recipe – quite the good one, with a hint of spice and cinnamon.

"So beyond the door where I turned back, that's where you fought the doubles, huh?" Amber mused as she refilled Shinji's mug with rich, aromatic liquid. "I guess even if Phelan hadn't gotten himself killed back in the maze, we probably wouldn't have done so well against them."

"Probably not," the boy agreed, shaking his head. "But then, Granger and I didn't get a chance to fight them, really. We were tired and let down our guard when there didn't seem to be anyone in the final room. So, when they attacked us..."

He winced, shaking his head.

If only he'd been prepared, things might have been different.

Then again, they might not have been.

"So, how did you even reach the final room?" Natsumi asked, pressing a chocolate chip cookie into his free hand, for which the boy mumbled his thanks, as the treat would go well with the hot cocoa. "Ernie and I tried our best, but well…" The twin-tailed girl chuckled a bit as she looked out over the lake, whose surface gleamed like jewels. "…we fell short." She paused then, shaking her head. "Poor Ernie was lured into a side room, with the door closing behind him. I didn't see what happened after that." She sighed. "I went on for a bit after that, but without Ernie around to check on things – he was the one using Mopsus – I didn't realize there was a Pogrebin sneaking up on me. By the time I did..."

"It was too late," Amber murmured sympathetically, leaning over and drawing Natsumi close, as she rubbed the other girl's back. "Sorry to hear that."

"Eh, don't be," Nats replied with a lopsided smile. "It's nice to have a challenge – something I can't beat with only Mopsus."

"I'm surprised you didn't use the gift Quirrell gave you," the copper-haired girl quipped dryly. "Wouldn't that have cut through Devil's Snare just fine."

The Japanese girl blinked.

"…huh, you're right," Natsumi realized. "Hah, if you're with me in the final exam, maybe I'll support with Mopsus and blade, and you can do spells?"

"That could work," Amber mused. "You can help take care of things which need someone handling them up close, and I can watch your back."

"You're good at that."

"I've had practice, Nats."

"As if I haven't watched yours more than enough," the Japanese girl shot back, a trace of amusement in her voice as she leaned her head on her old friend's shoulder. "Anyway, I'm surprised you did so well, with your partner being Phelan. Your brother...he isn't one for restraint."

Amber chuckled softly and shook her head.

"He isn't. He's brash, reckless, and more than a bit of glory hound," the copper-haired girl admitted. "Still, he can be surprisingly reliable in a real life or death situation. He is my brother, after all."

"Hoooh? So even he can get serious, huh?" Shinji muttered. "I never would have thought it..."

"Let's hope you never have to," Amber remarked. "If you do, it means things are…bad." She tilted her head, as if thinking of something, before patting the ground next to her. "Come. Sit by me. Let's enjoy the view."

He did, noting that while the lake was certainly beautiful on a day like this, though the way the sun lit up Amber's features, and made her copper-colored hair seem to glow, was even more so.

"So…" Natsumi's voice was quiet – a murmur nearly lost in the breeze. "What's going on with you and Granger? You haven't been glaring at each other since the exam. Did something happen?"

"N-no, nothing, really," the boy replied, shaking his head, though Amber just arched an eyebrow at his words. "Well, it's just…it's hard to keep hating her, to be her enemy when…when we spent so much time in that world saving each other. Fighting to protect one another. Working with her. In that world, we were alone. There was no one else. No one to save us, or keep us alive – except each other. So…we're not friends, but…it seems almost pointless to be enemies." He paused, shaking his head. "She's not a bad person. She's just…complicated."

"Everyone is complicated," Amber remarked. "That's just how humans are. Not just other people, though. Each of us is like that too." She smiled, her expression an odd one as she looked into the distance. "That's…that's really what Professor Quirrell's are meant for, you know. Most professors just make you learn the material in the books. But he wants to make sure you know yourself – who you are, what you can do, and what you can't. What you're willing to sacrifice in the name of victory. What you won't."

"That I...that I know myself?" the boy repeated. "But…why?"

"It's like that quote from the _Art of War_ , where knowing yourself is just as important as knowing the enemy," Natsumi explained. "If you know only the enemy, but not yourself, you will lose as many battles as you win. Here, the last enemy is yourself."

"…huh," Shinji grunted. "I…I never thought about it that way. I just thought Quirrell was just making things difficult for us." He shook his head. "...too bad life isn't a shonen manga where you can just surpass your limits," the boy muttered, with Natsumi laughing at the petulance in his voice.

"Isn't it too nice a day for you sound like this?" Amber quipped, gesturing to how the sun made the ripples on the lake shimmer and shine. "You're looking at such a beautiful sight with two pretty girls beside you, yet you're thinking about Granger this much? Is she that much prettier than I am?" she teased, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

Shinji went utterly red, his mouth falling open in a gasp as her hot breath sent shivers own his spine.

"T-that's not...I-it's not like that," he stammered, turning to look at Amber, who had once again turned to look out at the lake. "It's…I…oh, you're right. I shouldn't be distracted when what I'm looking at is so beautiful." Amber, noting where he was looking out of the corner of her eyes, found herself blushing, just a bit. "I…thank you."

"Any time," the copper-haired girl murmured.

"Actually, I really do need to thank Natsumi," the boy added.

"Hm, what for?" the Hufflepuff girl asked, brushing a stray hair from her eyes as she smiled softly at her friend.

"...to be honest, I only got as far as I did thanks to what you gave me at Christmas," he admitted, with the girl looking rather surprised.

"Oh, is that what Quirrell meant by magical supplements?" the brunette questioned.

"Yes," Shinji confirmed. "I thought…I thought it really was a life or death situation. That we'd been kidnapped and left for dead." He sighed heavily. "Me getting that far, it wasn't because I was more skilled than any of you. Or more brilliant. It was because, with that potion – I was lucky. It guided me, made sure I couldn't lose. And then it was gone, and I…lost."

"Ahhhhh."

"Yeah. I guess my Shadow was a reflection of myself at very best, when the me that faced it was anything but. Of course I would lose – I can't beat a copy of myself guided by liquid luck."

Amber squeezed his shoulder sympathetically.

"Even so, you came in first, didn't you?"

"Well, except for Sokaris and Nigel, who tested out of the class," the boy grumbled. "What will she do with the extra time, in the months until school ends?"

"Probably read or make potions," Natsumi replied. "You know how she is."

"...maybe," Shinji allowed. There were a lot of things about Sokaris that didn't entirely make sense in his mind, but he had the good sense not to probe too deeply. More than anyone else at Hogwarts, the purple-haired girl was frighteningly magus-like in her demeanor, after all, and to his mind, that made her capable of almost anything. "I'm not sure about Nigel though. Maybe he'll read? He seems to like that."

"I hear he will be going back to his proper class too, meaning he'll be a third year next year, not someone caught in between," Amber piped up.

"Good for him," Shinji said quietly. "He works hard. I'll say that much about him." _'Even if he does seem like he likes Senpai...'_ "Though I have a feeling Sokaris helped him."

"Sokaris is good at helping if – when – she wants to, I think," the Japanese girl remarked. "She just doesn't...seem to like dealing with people all that much."

"You seem to get along with her well enough," Amber pointed out.

"Well, that's because I can keep up with her," Natsumi noted. "Kind of." She frowned. "Mostly. And even then, I think she's going easy on me. To be honest, we don't talk about the things friends would. I don't know much about her aside from the fact she's brilliant at potions, and mind stuff, and that she doesn't laugh, unlike other witches, when I say I want to go to space. Most others ask why I would bother. That there's nothing there and that I'm wasting my time, when I could be studying something useful, like cleaning charms."

"Huh, they laugh at you for that?" the copper-haired girl asked with some concern as she turned to her old friend. "What _idiots_. I ought to hex them into tomorrow. Or maybe into yesterday."

"Amber…"

"Or, maybe I could show them the _point_ of my blade. Teach them not to laugh at a sword just because it isn't magical."

"Amber."

"It's not right, them treating you like that because you like something they don't."

"Amber, you don't really see why I like space all that much either," Natsumi said reproachfully. "You told me that yourself, years ago."

"I still don't," the copper-haired girl admitted. "But we've known each other for years. And I'll be damned if someone else is going to judge you because of what you like when its none of their bloody business. Tell me who they are – I'll make them stop."

"I don't think you can. Not just by threatening them."

"You're too nice, Nats," Amber muttered. "But fine, what did you have in mind, then?"

"Crushing them," the brunette replied, with the earl's daughter blinking.

"…I take that back," the copper-haired girl murmured appreciatively. "You're even more ruthless than I am."

"Shouldn't you know this by now?"

"Yes, but Matou doesn't, so I'm making sure he realizes," Amber quipped. "Just in case, well…"

"Makes sense," Natsumi agreed, with the two sharing a _look_ for about half a minute before nodding. "So, feel like joining me for the final? I think, if I'm with you, we can win."

"Not that just winning would be enough," Amber pointed out. "You have to beat them by so much that realize what idiots they were."

"I'll help too," Shinji said impulsively, with the two girls looking at him oddly. "T-that is, if you'll have me. No one makes fun of people I care about and gets away with it."

"I see," the brunette murmured, nodding as if in acceptance. "We'll be glad to have you, right Amber?"

"Right."

"Though…I suppose if you're going to be working with us, there's something we should talk about."

Shinji swallowed.

"Yes…?" he all but squeaked.

"You remember what Aozaki-san said during the Gala, right?" Natsumi asked. "About how Miyuki-senpai can bring two people with her to _Mahoutokoro_ this summer?"

Shinji nodded. _Senpai_ hadn't brought it up, for some reason – perhaps because she waiting on something?

"You've mentioned this, Nats," Amber said quietly. "But why…?"

"I asked her if she could bring three people, since I know both of you would want to come," the twin-tailed brunette explained. "But it's not up to her. So, since I'll be going with her...there's just one spot left." She trailed off, looking away. "Sorry, I…I didn't know what to tell you."

"I..." Amber began, but—

"Amber, you should go," Shinji said decisively, his voice tight. He wasn't looking at her when he said it, though, but out over the water. If he looked at her, if he saw her expression – he wasn't sure he could keep himself from crying. "You...you and Nats are good friends – have been good friends for such a long time, and I know you like Japanese culture," he all but whispered. "So, it should be you..."

Miyuki-senpai, Natsumi and Amber had already done so much for him this year – it wouldn't be right to impose on them for the summer, not when…not when…

"Are you alright, Matou?" Amber asked, noting with some shock that the boy looked like he was ripping himself to pieces inside. "You...you can go if you want. I don't…"

" _No_. I know you want to go," the boy said, looking at her, forcing back the traitorous part of him which told him to take her up on her offer, so he could spend the summer with _senpai,_ bask in _senpai's_ presence, see her smile. "Don't say no because of me."

"Matou…I…"

And then he _was_ crying, with heavy tears leaving trails as they streamed down his face. "I mean, I _do_ , I do want to go...but it wouldn't be right for me to take that from you." He took a breath. "You, Nats, Senpai – you've all known each other far longer than I have. And I...I'm from Japan in the first place. I can go back whenever I want to, take the train to _Mahoutokoro_ ," he added with false bravado. "It's where I got my wand, after all. So...so I..."

"You really can be a sweet boy sometimes," Amber murmured, surprising him with a fierce embrace that felt warmer than anything he'd felt before. And then…she kissed him, on the cheek. "If you're...are you sure..."

"Yes," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes shining as they met hers. "I want you...to be happy."

For a moment they looked at each other, something important passing between them unspoken.

"...then I'll make arrangements, so you can enjoy your summer too," the Gryffindor girl offered with a sigh. "I…you should know that Selina offered for me to join her on a trip to France this summer. Something about a tour of _Beauxbatons_ and a chance to meet a good friend of hers, she said."

"A good friend?" Shinji echoed, thankful for the distraction.

"Yes, her friend Lily Spencer," Amber explained, shaking her head, belatedly letting go of the boy. "Apparently, her friend's grandfather will be teaching history here next year, and since she will be coming along with him, he wanted her to hear about Hogwarts from someone other than just him."

 _'Lily Spencer, huh? That doesn't sound very Fr—wait a minute.'_

If this Lily Spencer was who he thought it was…

"...heh..."

"Do you know something?" the copper-haired girl wondered aloud.

"Uh...no," the boy said, not very convincingly. "Why would I?"

"Because you're a terrible liar," Natsumi pointed out. "You looked like you realized something just now."

Shinji grimaced.

"Fine...I was just thinking what a small world it was, since at the Ball, I danced with a Lily..." he smiled. "A Lily from France…well, living in France. She was originally from Britain."

"You mean Lily de Lune?" Amber questioned.

"Better known as Liliana Spencer-Moon," Shinji interrupted, revealing the true name of his dancing partner. "Yes – the same name as the girl from the story Selina wove us. And just like that Liliana, her grandfather is also Leonard Spencer-Moon."

"...exactly the same name? What a coincidence!"

"Somehow, I doubt it a coincidence," Natsumi pointed out.

"I was being facetious." Amber grumbled. "Still, such a person is going to be teaching us History?" Amber asked incredulously. "Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure, but…I don't think I'm wrong either," the boy replied, shaking his head.

"Was she anything like the character in Lord of Swinverrucas?"

"Somewhat," Shinji admitted. "We didn't exactly talk about anything too deep. I'll make sure to get to know her."

There was a beat and then…

"Matou," Amber spoke, looking into the distance.

"Yes?"

"You...cheating is bad, you know."

"Cheating?" Shinji echoed. "What do you—oh, you mean the Liquid luck thing?" he questioned. "Don't worry, I won't do it again - I don't have any left."

He was a bit puzzled by how Nats seemed to turn to Amber then.

"...you _did_ remember what I said about boys being dense, right?" the brunette quipped.

"That's right..." Amber reminded herself. "Denser than a neutron star..."


	43. But for a (hail) Stone

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 42.** _But for a (hail) Stone_

For Matou Shinji, who had always been proficient at everything he tried – with the (not so) minor exception of magecraft – it had never occurred to him that a single class could occupy so much of his time. Nor had he ever thought that he would be forced to, or worse – would _choose_ to – take time away from ensuring that he was progressing adequately in his other courses to make sure he passed one assignment.

This had been a year of firsts, it seemed, with Professor Quirrell opening his eyes to entire new universes of peril and pain.

The boggart in Quirrell's first scenario had caused him to snap, with all the rage, anger, hatred - of himself as much as anything - he'd bottled up inside since his mother's death exploding out of the corner of his soul where he'd shoved all of it. He hadn't realized that...that there was something like that sleeping inside of him, but then, he supposed that shame and self-loathing for never being good enough, no matter how hard he tried, always being thrown away, had congealed into something powerful.

On the adventure where he'd found the Chamber of Secrets, he'd learned that all the cleverness and strength in the world sometimes availed not, and that sometimes, it was only the vagaries of fortune that determined who lived and who died.

During the Defense of Hos, he'd learned that for all the cunning and wit he could bring to bear on a problem, it was just as important to be able to manage other people and their expectations...and that sometimes, luck didn't matter as much as he'd like when the enemy had the advantage of both numbers and time.

And during the scenario after the break, the boy had found that even bitter rivalries could be put aside in the face of survival...and that as powerful as luck could be (as Felix Felicis had let him overcome ridiculous odds, allowing him to do far better than his skill or power truly merited), relying on luck was not a valid strategy in the long run as the law of averages inevitably caught up.

Which was why he was training so hard now, attempting to close the gap between himself and his companions - Amber Noel and Natsumi Suzuki, girls who were both skilled in their own right, and who had worked together for years. Having to match them, training alongside them...he'd never imagined that engaging in vigorous exercise with two pretty girls could be so...exhausting.

And not from the more pleasant activities his mind sometimes brought up from time to time if he allowed it to wander.

No. Instead of doing something like k-k-kissing or such, he was learning to imbue his knives with curses more quickly, to toss potions over to one of the two when they needed it, to dodge and weave and evade spells, to run from knives that Natsumi sent hurtling after him with the power of Mopsus.

...and yes, finally, finally, learning how to use the training weapon he'd been given during the break, so that he no longer posed a danger to himself while swinging it around.

True, the rapier he now wielded wasn't a goblin-forged item by any means, unlike Amber's choice of arms, but one long, pointed piece of metal was as good as another – or so he told himself. He wasn't foolish enough to say it aloud, in case his words somehow got back to Phelan or Amber, who were both…very particular about the virtues of their choice of edged weaponry, but it was what he thought.

' _I guess a sword might come in handy if I ever lose my wand? Or if I need to defend myself, since I'm going to be using one of my wands as a glorified flashlight anyway…'_

He'd hoped that there were potions that could be used instead, so as to keep his hands free. Things would be far simpler if each of them just wore a glowing phial, after all, instead of him needing a wand to provide some illumination.

Yet when he'd asked Sokaris about such, the purple-haired girl had merely told him that there were no such potions in the British repertoire, and that while the effect could be replicated, she did not wish to teach him how to make a potion that he didn't understand the properties of. Instead, she'd showed him some general tips and tricks, like how to shorten brewing time, how to achieve increased potency at the cost of reduced shelf-life, and how potions, if imbibed, could bypass the resistances of even trolls and other magical creatures.

Really, he appreciated her help – his rank in potions class was almost entirely due to what she had taught him, but it disappointed him that she hadn't been able – or willing – to teach him how to make the potion he'd wanted.

' _But then, I shouldn't take people for granted.'_

Sokaris was under no obligation to help someone like him, any more than she was to lift a finger for a worm crawling on the ground.

Thus, to keep himself humble, he took time out of his day to help Miyuki-senpai with her gardening, which, for all that it was exhausting, was rewarding enough in its own right. After all, senpai had seemed…grateful for the help, as she had recently been requested by Sokaris to help the young Alchemist with preparing Nigel for the bonus dungeon as a practical field test of her plants, so to speak.

Something about that bothered Shinji a bit – mostly the fact that she would be spending time with Nigel, something which had directly led to her troubles last year. Yes, that was what he was concerned about: the fact that she might end up troubled again, not because he was bothered because Nigel seemed to _like_ Senpai or anything.

Or so he told himself as he watered plants, raked muck, fought off the spiky balls of death that venomous tentacula flung at him, learned to tell just when a bursting mushroom was likely to explode, and other such things that kept his mind off...topics he would rather not contemplate.

Either way, every day ended with the boy bone weary, collapsing into his bed.

Perhaps it was unsurprising that his grades in other classes slipped, with him dozing off quite frequently during Astronomy class, and once almost - almost - falling off the Astronomy Tower in his fatigue, though thankfully, Natsumi kept him from plunging to his death. As for the rest...well, being so tired made it hard to concentrate, but surely it wouldn't be so bad if he just skipped some of the Charms homework, right? It might have been better to skip Transfiguration work, since McGonagall was often absent these days, but...he wasn't willing to jeopardize what he'd managed so far, and he was sure that he wouldn't ever need to know the exact properties of something like _Spongify_.

'… _still, I need to find out more about what the_ Book _can do_ ,' he mused to himself one night as he lay in bed. _'Maybe I should try out another scenario before the final exam comes, just so I can see if Quirrell has any other tricks up his sleeve.'_

* * *

Thus, sometime later, Matou Shinji found himself standing in a room of white, alongside Selina and Ernie, with the trio moving among tables strewn with a dizzying array of gear.

"So, here we are," Selina said cheerfully as she picked up a set of armor that didn't leave much to the imagination, before grimacing and putting it back on the table where she'd found it. "Choosing to face down another scenario. Surprised you agreed to join us, Matou, seeing as you took first in the rankings. Not like you need the practice."

"I got lucky, that's all," Shinji grumbled, waving off the praise as he moved around a few items to reveal what looked like a goblin-silver blade, half buried beneath the pile of other goods. _'Huh. This could be useful.'_

For this scenario, he and his team would play the role of three intrepid adventurers from a Hogwarts long past, who had attempted to circumnavigate the world by broomstick with the reckless confidence of the young. Sadly for them, they'd been unaware that a few wands, a single canteen, a pack of pemmican, and an assortment of other cobbled-together supplies wasn't enough to keep a party of three alive and healthy on such an expedition.

Nor, of course, were the brooms of those bygone days, intended for no more than short jaunts between wizarding hamlets (since most did not know how to apparate), rated for a transcontinental voyage.

In their ignorance, the three of them had set out on their journey, hoping to make history.

Alas, only one had returned, and not in triumph, but defeat.

From the accounts that he'd read, Shinji knew that the party had mostly flown towards the sunrise each day, making camp at night and taking off at first light, with stops every few hours to pluck the splinters out of their arses, heading in a vaguely easterly direction until they ran afoul of a rather massive storm, and well…

' _There's a reason Quirrell called the scenario_ "Surviving the Crash",' Shinji mused bitterly.

In the case of the three adventurers, their broomsticks had been destroyed on impact, with their provisions and goods – even their wands – lost.

Of course, since Shinji and the others challenging this were first years, not graduates of Hogwarts, the Professor had shown them some mercy, allowing them to keep their wands – if they could find them – not that he thought that the limited repertoire of spells a student knew would do much good when they were thrown into a strange and deadly world.

A sprawling jungle, a mist-shrouded place riddled with swamps and bogs, filled with creatures dangerous and exotic, about which they would not yet have learned.

' _At least we aren't being asked to defeat some mythical beast, or to explore a hidden temple here, just to retrace the steps of the lone survivor of the expedition.'_

It seemed simple enough, really: all they had to do was reach the small town that the adventurers had flown over an hour before crashing…only the distance a broom could cover in an hour was far greater than that which a human could cover on two legs.

'… _No doubt, we'll get lost, and once we do, we'll run into something that kills us. I know how the Professor thinks by now.'_ Or at least he thought he did. He knew better than to think he knew all of Quirrell's tricks though, as that way lay complacency, and with complacency came disaster. _'I learned_ that _well enough in the last scenario I did…'_

"You got lucky?" Selina echoed.

"More or less," Shinji agreed, not really wanting to admit that his luck was due to _Felix Felicis_.

"Got lucky, huh?" Ernie muttered, sifting aimlessly through piles of odd armor, tabards, books, packs of food, weapons, and more. "I wish I would get lucky sometimes." The boy's movements stilled as his hands seized on something, pulling it free from the pile. "Huh, what's this?"

"A canteen," Selina observed, noting the construction. "Open it, see if there's a note."

Ernie did, finding that inside was a slip of paper describing what he held as a canteen which could purify any water put into it, regardless of the source, making it fit for human consumption.

"…I think I'll take this," Ernie noted, clutching the item, before glancing back at Shinji. "I have to say, I thought you and Granger would have gotten each other killed. Or killed each other. One of the two. That you would score first…"

"We nearly did a few times," the Japanese boy admitted, shaking his head. "Anyway, we still lost, so I can't say I did all that well. It just shows how much I need to improve, you know?"

"Says the guy whose score is better than everyone except the two who tested out of Defense for the year," Ernie replied testily. "You're not making the rest of us feel any better, you know?"

"...I'm sorry?" Shinji offered, somewhat shocked by his friend's outburst. "I'm...I'm not trying to upset you. I'm just…I'm disappointed—"

"Well, maybe if your _disappointment_ didn't make the rest of us sound like idiots for doing worse than you. Because if you keep saying you did horribly, how do you think it makes the rest of us feel?" the blond Hufflepuff growled. "It isn't all about you here."

"Ernie. Enough," Selina cut in, putting a hand on the shoulder of the boy in question – at which, Ernie Macmillan instantly went still.

"But..."

"I don't think Matou meant any harm," the bespectacled blonde said soothingly, her fingers squeezing the boy's shoulder gently, as Ernie exhaled - well, sighed, really. "He didn't do as well as he would have liked. Neither did we. That's all there is to it. He's allowed to be unhappy."

There was a beat before…

"Right. I...I know that," the blond Hufflepuff replied wearily, looking away. "I just—"

He went silent, his face flushing bright red.

"You don't need to worry about my feelings," the Slytherin girl replied with a soft smile. "In things like this, sometimes it really is luck. Sometimes you roll a one, sometimes a natural 20. Either way, there's no point in being annoyed at someone because they were just a bit luckier. I just have to make sure that the next time I roll the dice, I stack as many modifiers as I can in my favor."

Ernie blinked.

"What? Modifiers? Dice? Natural 20...?" the boy repeated, feeling a bit lost. He knew what the words meant individually, but when put together, they didn't really make a lot of sense. Did all adventurers talk like this, he wondered? Did they all develop…eccentricities to deal with the life or death situations they found themselves in regularly?

"Sorry. I mean that if I don't do so well the first time, I'll try to do whatever I can to make sure things will turn out better the next," Selina explained, with Ernie nodding.

When put that way, it was a very pragmatic attitude, with a practicality no doubt born of her having seen adventures and dangers the rest of them could only imagine.

In many ways, Ernie Macmillan envied Selina Moore.

She had done so much, seen so many things, experienced the world, and yet she was here, with all the rest of them. She'd even chosen to work with _him_ , of all people, an unremarkable boy by any standard, who had never even left Britain.

It wasn't strange that she liked working with _Matou_ , who had come from a land far, far away, with traditions and mannerisms he found puzzling. What was puzzling that she enjoyed working with _him_ , since the closest he'd come to adventures – not counting Quirrell's scenarios – were the new year dinner parties his family often hosted, with their frivolity, verbal sniping, and…exotic sights.

' _I'd almost expect her to prefer working with Phelan.'_

After all, for all that Ernie was annoyed by the earl's son, he couldn't deny that the Gryffindor was far more dashing, far more charming, than he. That…and Phelan Noel was a muggleborn, like Selina Moore, so he knew at least some of the same references she did, while Ernie…it was all he could do to follow along and not seem like a fool in front of the beautiful Slytherin.

She told him of the great masters she had learned her arts from.

The bards Gilbert and Sullivan, who'd chronicled the adventure of pirate kings, sorcerers, Venetians (whatever those were).

Lord Gygax of Clan Gygax, a man who had at various times been a clerk and a cobbler, before rising to glory as the man who opened the way to the land of Greyhawk, one of the two great lands where adventurers could test their mettle.

Master Greenwood, who had mapped out the way to Faerun and made it accessible to adventurers.

And of course, her brother and his merry band, who had grown up in that mystical land.

With such a pedigree, it was unsurprising that Selina was far better accustomed to the life of an adventurer than he was. But while it was frustrating to be in her shadow, what bothered him far more was how he was always in Matou's as well.

They were in the same house, knew the same people, studied the same things, and yet…why…why was Matou so much further ahead than he was? Even working with _Granger_ , he'd managed to do better than anyone except Sokaris and Nigel, and those two were essentially untouchable when it came to doing well in scenarios.

It made him feel so…inadequate, so small, since he'd been around magic all his life, yet was…somehow finding himself not even second-best, or third-best, but so far out of sight, no one knew he was even competing.

Still…it wouldn't do him any good to be a prat to Matou, not when Selina had invited the Japanese boy to work with them.

She had her reasons, no doubt.

Ernie was about to ask if she'd found something, only to see, when he looked over, that she was holding something like a golden compass.

"What's that?" the boy asked.

"A compass, only this one points towards the largest group of people in a hundred miles as well as north," Selina replied, looking at the inscription carved on the metal of the instrument. "Could be useful, right?"

"Mm, it could," Ernie agreed.

"You sure we wouldn't be better off with a bag of food?" Shinji asked. "If we're going to be walking a long way, we'll want something to let us keep up our strength."

"Sure, but I think we can find food. If we lose our way, we've lost," Selina reasoned, with the Japanese boy nodding after a moment.

"You're right," he conceded.

"Good to know we agree," the Slytherin quipped, her tone mild. "You both know how this scenario goes, right?"

"Yeah. Our broom flight crashed. We only managed to salvage a few items from the crash. We're supposed to try and get to the village we flew over...an hour ago?" Ernie said hesitantly, only vaguely recalling what Quirrell had said to them.

"Mhm," Selina confirmed. "And we just picked out our items."

"Yeah…about that," Ernie spoke up. "Would you mind carrying them? I would feel safer if you did, since well, you're the adventurer here."

"Well, if you're sure."

"I am."

Selina bowed slightly and took the canteen Ernie offered, before looking at Shinji. The Japanese boy raised an eyebrow, but wordlessly handed over the goblin-silver knife, with the girl nodding in gratitude that he didn't put up a fuss.

"I think the Professor said to signal when we were ready?" she commented a moment later.

"I think I remember that," Shinji mumbled. "But how—"

* * *

When the group came to, they found themselves on the ground, battered and bruised, feeling their bodies ache all over, as if they'd been slammed into something hard at some ridiculous velocity.

"Ugh..." Ernie groaned, wincing as he tried to get up, only to find that his body wouldn't respond to his wishes. "What...what happened?"

Splinters and ruined goods lay all around the trio, and a heavy mist – almost a dense fog – obscured anything other than their immediate surroundings. It was dim, too, from the look of it, they were either under the cover of a forest, or if they were exposed, then then sun had already set, with night about to fall.

"We must be in the Surviving the Crash scenario," Selina related calmly. Or close to calmly anyway. Was that what one called it when someone's voice was completely free of any emotion? Ernie couldn't remember. "It's...huh..." She paused, slowly patting herself down and frowning as she didn't find the items the group had handed her. "That's weird. The items are gone. The ones we picked out."

"Gone?!" There was a slightly hysterical edge to Ernie's voice, as he wasn't – and had never been, really – the most phlegmatic of individuals. "But...I…I thought."

"Calm down," Shinji's voice cut him off bluntly, as the Japanese boy got to his feet with some effort. "Let's look around. Our things are probably scattered around."

It sounded like something Quirrell would do to them anyway, an extra hoop to jump through…though it also seemed reasonable for what would happen in a crash.

"I...my wand? Where's my wand?" Ernie found himself asking. "I...I had it just a second ago."

With no items, no wand, he was helpless in this place, whatever this place was, with no tricks up his sleeve, no vial of mopsus, _nothing._

'… _am I going to die here? Am I going to fail?'_

"I…I…" the boy began to hyperventilate, his breathing growing shallow and as nightmarish visions ran through his mind. "I…I…"

"Ernie. _Breathe._ "

The boy bit back the urge to say that _was_ what he was doing, as she limped over to him and helped him sit up, while rubbing his back.

It took a number of minutes, but eventually the blond Hufflepuff felt the wave of panic subside, probably thanks more to Selina's closeness than anything else.

"Ernie, did you already forget? You don't need a wand to be awesome. Remember the first scenario...? You and Suzuki showed everyone not to underestimate Mopsus – or Hufflepuffs."

Ernie flushed, but muttered something about how anyone could have done that if they'd just thought of it, and how it had been Natsumi who'd come up with the idea, but Selina shushed him.

"Maybe anyone could have, but it wasn't _anyone_ who showed us how it was done. It was you," she told him, with the boy straightening, feeling…proud despite himself. "You were awesome before without a wand. You can be so again."

"I…I guess so," the blond Hufflepuff said after a while, his shaking slowly easing off as he calmed down. "How…how can you be so calm? About all of this."

"Because I've done something like this before," the Slytherin replied. "Situations like this happen. You just have to deal with them when they arise, because reality doesn't care if you don't like it. It simply is."

"…that's fair," Ernie grunted. "Any tips?"

"Well, here's a secret," Selina whispered conspiratorially. "Keep calm. We're all more capable than we think. Usually."

Case in point – while she had been calming Ernie down, Matou had demonstrated both his tolerance for pain and that his wits were intact by going around and collecting their goods.

In fact, oddly enough, he'd somehow found three sets of canteen, knife, and compass for each person, though only one wand apiece.

Well, so he said anyway, though Selina noticed the second wand hidden up his sleeve.

By the time both of those goals had been accomplished though, the last remnants of daylight had faded altogether, with the temperature beginning to drop.

Oddly enough, the mist which had obscured their sight was also beginning to dissipate, something Selina hadn't expected, though she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"We need to move," she said, with Ernie looking at her blankly. "We need to find shelter, since if this place – a jungle – is like those I know, there will be dangerous beasts that come out at night."

"Not a bad plan," Shinji agreed, looking around. "I don't think any of you are much good at building shelters from nothing."

"It...it isn't nothing," Ernie protested. "We have what little is left of the brooms, and Matou can…" He blinked, as the wheels worked in his head. "You didn't find more than one set of these, did you? You made new ones with the doubling charm."

"Well, yes…" Shinji admitted, taken aback that Ernie had seen through him so easily.

"Then…you can make more of the wood scraps and we can put those together into a shelter, right?" the blond Hufflepuff proposed.

But the Japanese boy grimaced.

"I could," he admitted. "Though copying sticks is going to make me pretty tired, and it will take us a while to build a shelter. I don't think any of us have experience with that either, except maybe Selina. Let's look for something, since the fog has thinned out."

"And risk running into dangerous beasts?" Ernie shot back.

"It's not like we're completely helpless," Shinji commented. "We have our wands, and those knives."

"...and when something eats us after we didn't see them coming, I'll be sure to thank you for it," the blond Hufflepuff shot back. "Selina, what do you think?"

"It could go either way, really," the Slytherin girl mused to herself. "It's true that if we move around, we might be seen by whatever's out there. On the other hand..." she trailed off, looking around. "I'm sure that when we crashed here, we probably attracted some attention."

"...point," Ernie conceded. "So...?"

"We'll go looking."

"…as you wish."

* * *

As the trio began to walk, the winds too began to pick up. True, it dispersed yet more of the fog, but the lightly dressed youths were cut to the quick by the sudden chill.

"Cold…" Ernie muttered, with Selina shivering.

"A storm is coming," the blonde Slytherin noted, with Shinji's eyes widening as she said this. Still, it hadn't begun to rain yet, so the group made the most of the opportunity, walking as quickly as they can towards what seems to be a dense copse of trees, thinking that they might at least find shelter under the dense boughs.

As they were making their way there, however, they came across a pair of great boulders leaning against one another, with Selina finding on closer inspection that one of them had an opening cut into it – that it was hollowed out inside.

The other was partially covering what seems like a hole in the ground – perhaps the burrow of some animal, perhaps the opening to a cave.

In the distance, thunder rumbled.

The storm would not be long in coming now.

The group looked uneasily between themselves, considering what to do, as the options – the viable options – open to them were quickly shrinking. There was no time to make something.

If they headed off immediately, then perhaps they could reach the forest, but as it was...

"I think we have to choose between the hole in the ground and the rock," Selina said aloud, verbalizing all of their thoughts. "And frankly, I'm not sure the hole is safe. We don't know where it leads, what might be in it, or anything at all."

And if Quirrell's previous challenges were any indication, if something – or someone – was in it, they were not likely to be friendly.

"Better we stay out here," Shinji agreed, looking dubiously at the rock before him. The opening was large enough for him to enter, if he crawled, but inside... _'The hell?'_ Inside had been painstakingly hollowed out into something like a room, if it wasn't the result of erosion. "Might be a bit tight, but it is what it is. That and we probably won't annoy whatever's down there."

Ernie looked like he wanted to protest, but seeing that he was outvoted, 2 to 1, he held his tongue, as he knew it wouldn't do much good.

"Fine," he said. "Let's start a fire then. We might as well make ourselves warm." He paused, considering something. "Maybe we could block off the opening to the rock too? In case something else comes looking for shelter?"

Sadly, in the end, neither of his suggestions were put to use.

There would be no fire that night, nor would the entrance be blocked off, meaning that if it began to pour, things could get uncomfortable, and if someone came by, they would be discovered.

Selina had then gone on to suggest modifying the entranceway and the floor of the hollow rock to make it more comfortable, something which Ernie didn't think they had time for.

Yet, he'd bowed to the will of the group, as overt resistance was futile when it came to dealing with such matters. It was better than wasting everyone's time, and who knew, maybe he'd be able to do something, even if he couldn't just transfigure the entrance and had to fix it manually.

Oh, perhaps if the people with Selina were her brother and his jolly band of adventurers, whose exploits in Faerun were nothing short of legend, then this would be trivial.

A master of transfiguration would have had very little difficulty doing everything she asked, much less a party of them. But then, neither he or Matou were nearly at that level – or at her level, for that matter – something he thought that Selina forgot sometimes.

 _'She expects too much of people, I think.'_

She thought of them as being like her – which granted, made him want to be more than he was, to be someone worthy of her – though he knew that right now, he wasn't anywhere near worthy.

That was why he'd suggested just blocking the entrance, because he knew that this was something he could do, as opposed to raising the sleeping area, modifying the tunnel crawl-space, and building a roof for the entryway – things that he knew, knew, would take more time than any of them had.

Still, she'd insisted otherwise, so all he could do was try...

...only to be proven right, given how, as he was scooping up dirt in his hands, there was a sound as if the sky itself was tearing itself open, and with it, a deluge began.

Only it wasn't just rain that fell, but great nodules of ice bigger than his fist, violently crashing into the ground.

"Guh!"

One moment he'd dumped the load of dirt and twigs he'd collected and was running for the rock.

The next—

"Huh? Why am I...?" He was on the ground, looking up at the-

A flash of white, then another, as stars blossomed in his vision.

"I...I..."

Whatever he was about to do next, it didn't matter, as a hailstone the size of a softball smashed into his unprotected face, stealing away his life.


	44. Pay Unto Darkness

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 43.** _Pay Unto Darkness_

Matou Shinji could credibly be called quite a few things by quite a few people. Some of these things were flattering, others…far from it. Still, he rather hoped that no one thought of him as an idiot, (or in his native language, "baka"), even as unwise as some of his decisions had been over the last year, whether in life or in these…scenarios that Quirrell liked to whip up.

It wasn't as if he'd tried to make mistakes – they just happened sometimes, because he didn't have all the answers. If he could read ahead, knew what was to come in the book of life, then perhaps he would know what to choose so that everything would be perfect, but no one knew the future, not really.

' _Not all of it, anyway.'_

And in this scenario…well, he liked to think that anything that went wrong couldn't really be his fault, since he wasn't the one who'd come up with the plan. The architect of their fortunes this time around was Selina, with both he and Ernie deferring to her because she was the most experienced adventurer among them, something which no amount of roleplaying would let him surpass.

' _Though I wonder – does her experience work to her favor here? Or does it work against her?'_

After all, in this false world created by the _Book of Spells_ , the only rules were those that the Defense Professor imposed, meaning that it was possible that Selina's expectations could lead her astray.

For example, did the weather ever change this drastically from day to night anywhere in the world? Could a place go from hot and muggy to bone-chillingly cold, with the heavens showing just how little they cared for those under them by carpet-bombing them with great orbs of ice that the boy was sure would kill him if they hit him anywhere sensitive.

 _'Speaking of which...where's Ernie? He went out to get mud and firewood, since Selina thought it was better for one person to work inside the hollow rock, while another gathered...'_

Had the other Hufflepuff found shelter from the storm? Had he managed to get somewhere safe before the sudden onslaught of frozen death from above?

Or…had he…?

He asked this of Selina, but the blonde just stood near the door, her expression unreadable.

"He either did or he didn't," the Slytherin remarked, her voice devoid of anything like remorse or worry. "Either way, there's nothing we can do."

Shinji blinked, feeling a shiver go down his spine – and not just because his robes were damp, or the air was cold. It was almost as if Selina didn't care what happened to Ernie, if whether he lived or died was immaterial to her. Was she really that cold? Was _this_ the person he was going to be spending summer with?

 _'Though, it's not as if Beauxbatons will be dangerous,'_ he told himself. ' _After all,_ _it's a magical school - I'm sure that no one would put something dangerous at a school on purpose.'_

Well...aside from something like the Chamber of Secrets, Cursed Vaults, the Forbidden Forest, and whatever lurked in the Third Floor Corridor...

 _'...well, ok, maybe that was a stupid thought.'_

Speaking of stupid…was there something about their abilities that made users of witchcraft lose track of common sense? He knew that people who used curses overmuch tended to destroy their sense of humanity, so perhaps the arts of witches was something similar, changing them even as they changed the world around them?

He hoped not, though that did go a way towards explaining the eccentricities of someone like Headmaster Dumbledore. Not that magi were immune to such things either, which was why they tended not to use magecraft for everything, since the self-hypnosis that would require _would_ change the way they thought.

Case in point, his grandfather, who had apparently thought it was a good idea to turn himself into a decaying mass of worms, but the quest for immortality twisted magi like nothing else, and he supposed it was better – _slightly –_ than becoming a Dead Apostle and being hunted down by the Church for it.

' _But in changing himself, he himself was changed...or was he? Was he always a monster, with his new form better reflecting the truth of his being?'_

Still, his thoughts were going wildly off-track.

"Isn't that a bit heartless?" Shinji asked, his brows furrowing. "He...seems to care a good deal about what you think."

"Maybe he does," Selina replied evenly. "But whether he does shouldn't change anything. His fate is his own in this."

"...I'm guessing you've lost people on adventures before then?" the boy hazarded, with the blonde nodding. "I see. This...all of this must seem so...hollow to you then. The danger – all of it. Fake. Like this world."

"Even if the danger is fake, and the world itself a lie, we are real," Selina pointed out. "You, Ernie, and I – all of us exist, even here. Yet when we die here, that death isn't real, so it does no good to be upset. At least if he died, it was probably quick, and it wasn't at a critical moment."

"...I see," Shinji grunted. He was silent for a while, processing the fact that Selina thought like a magus, before he thought of something else. "This hail, you ever see anything like it?"

"A few times," Selina admitted, a wry twist gracing her lips. "Once I even saw rocks fall and kill an entire party of adventurers."

Shinji blinked.

"That...sounds unnatural," he commented.

"Oh, it was," the blonde agreed. "Rocks plummeting from the sky aren't something you see every day. In this case, a wizard did it."

"A wizard?" Shinji echoed. Well...yes, he supposed he could see Zelretch causing a swarm of rocks – meteors, he supposed the name would be – to fall from the sky. He'd famously stopped the moon from falling, so yes, him causing rocks to fall, leading to everyone's death was something he could see happening.

 _'I think he's better adjusted than that? Hopefully?'_

Not that he knew Zelretch. He didn't know many Magicians in person, as he'd only met Miss Blue, which was not an experience he particularly cared to repeat.

"Yes. Or at least, some magic user," Selina said quietly. "I think the party must have angered them, though I don't know the exact details. Just that they all died."

"...you...you saw this yourself?" Shinji asked, aghast. "And you...you weren't killed?"

"No. Take that as you will," the blonde replied, with Shinji taking a moment to absorb that. "Also, I don't know about you, but I'm starting to feel cold. It's getting a bit damp, and we didn't quite avoid getting a soaking. Let's get a fire going, yes?"

"You're not afraid of someone finding us because of the smoke?" Shinji questioned. A part of him – a very small part – was tempted to suggest that instead of a fire, they just huddle together for warmth, skin to skin, but...he thought better of it. She was, after all, the more experienced adventurer, so if she was suggesting this, it was probably the better idea.

"In this deluge? The rain will dampen the smell and hide some of the smoke. Besides, with all the hail, the only thing I can see wandering out there would be..." she trailed off, her gaze turning sharp as she looked into the distance.

"Would be...?" Shinji prompted.

"A troll," Selina supplied. "I remember that Phelan's party ended up fighting one. Maybe more than one, actually. If I recall, Phelan and Granger died. Only Weasley survived, because he ran away."

The Japanese boy swallowed.

"A troll..." he repeated numbly. "And all we have are our wands."

And an enchanted knife which glowed in the presence of enemies, though how useful that really would be, he didn't know. He didn't know its range of detection, what it defined as an enemy, or any such things.

All of the sudden, an invisibility cloak sounded like a really good idea.

"If all we have are wands, then we'll find a way to beat it with our wands," Selina reasoned, sounding utterly confident in their ability to do so. More confident than Shinji did at any rate, though he admitted that it wasn't hard to be so. "Get that fire going, would you?"

"...as you wish," the boy growled, though he moved to do just that. "Wait, what about smoke?"

"We'll worry about that later. We didn't seal off the rock, so there should be a place for air to come in," Selina replied.

For the next little while, Shinji and Selina busied themselves with doing little errands about the shelter – getting the fire started, duplicating robes with the doubling charm, and other such, distracting him from his growling stomach.

While doing it though, they got to talking, with the boy wondering what lay ahead.

"What lies ahead?" Selina echoed quietly. "Something that we'll be able to beat, but not through force, unless you're hiding some dark power that can tear apart the world. Or well, a troll," the blonde amended, with Shinji shifting a bit uncomfortably at her comment but otherwise saying nothing.

He did indeed have such a power, but the cost, especially if Selina reacted like Granger had…

"Any advice then?" the boy asked. "You've done things like this more than I have..."

"Just that Quirrell probably wants us to second-guess ourselves," the Slytherin girl stated. "It's not an uncommon pattern to see a team break after one of their members dies. And if I know the Professor, he's included plenty of chances for us to get ourselves killed through our actions – or through our lack of action."

"...that sounds a bit twisted," Shinji observed.

Well, more than a bit, but it was what it was.

"So is everything else about this particular scenario," Selina noted evenly. "Making us choose only three items among the three of us, with no three covering all our needs. Making the land a hostile one – probably worse than what the original explorers found, if this was based on some adventure. Ensuring that we would waste time arguing – or at least, have no one to blame but ourselves – by giving us options for us to choose between."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that if there'd only been one choice for shelter, we could have blamed him for not letting us reach it in time if someone had died," Selina pointed out. "Or in what I've heard of Phelan's scenario, they only faced one troll at first - they could have run, could have gotten away if they were willing to take a chance."

"But they chose to fight."

"And so Phelan died, and later, so did Hermione, who also stood her ground," the blonde reflected. "In the end, they are the ones whose choices led to their failure, while Weasley succeeded because of his."

"...or how like here, because we chose Ernie to be the one to go out and gather dirt and sticks, he ended up dying," Shinji said quietly.

It did not escape him that once, long ago, Quirrell had asked him to make a choice between two people as well - to pick whether Phelan or Ernie would live if only one could be saved. Even if nothing had come of his choice, even if they'd both been saved, that choice had weighted heavily on him, much as he was sure those who hadn't faced that choice before would have been horrified at the consequences of their choices.

That because of them, someone had died, even if it had not been a true death.

"…probably dying anyway," the boy amended. "He might still be alive. Maybe."

Selina sighed.

"I wouldn't hold out hope," she commented. "If you do, you're likely to be disappointed."

"...something about the way you said that reminds me of my childhood."

"Oh? Did your family think of things in a similar way?"

Shinji's lips twisted into a grimace.

"Something like that. Not that it mattered what I chose, did it? I ended up here, not..." he hesitated for a moment. "Not elsewhere."

"Mm," Selina murmured. "Do you wish you could go back?"

"...not really."

After that, there was little to be said, with the two silently agreeing that it was time to turn in for the night, if they hoped to get any rest before the morrow. Shinji, being a gentleman, volunteered to take first watch, eliciting a small smile from Selina for the first time since the hail had begun, though as she drifted off, he wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

As the moments went by, one after the next, the boy realized just how long mere minutes – or were they minutes? – could be when there was nothing to fill them. No conversation, no writing, no studying – not even a book to read or music to listen to.

Only the quiet sound of Selina's breathing, the crackling of the flames, and the white noise of hailstones falling from the heavens without end.

The combination was oddly hypnotic, and the boy almost found himself nodding off until something caught his notice.

' _I smell something…'_

Something pleasant, too – something that _wasn't_ Selina's shampoo.

It was a smoky, meaty aroma – something like pork – and it made his stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten all day, after all, that he could remember.

' _It's coming from…outside?'_ he thought, rising to his feet and padding to the entrance to see if he could make out where just where outside it might be, only to find that the source was smoke coming out of the hole in the ground.

 _'Huh...'_ Something was clearly down there, and they had food.

Food would go a long way towards keeping up their strength on the journey to the extraction point. On the other hand, it could well be that whoever or whatever was down there didn't feel much like sharing or would kill him on sight if he wasn't careful.

Still, the hail was also petering off, with only the rain left now, so maybe he could head for the hole in the ground, or...

' _No. That's a terrible idea, and I'm not thinking straight.'_

Realizing this, he kept himself from going outside at the last moment, and instead turned back to the shelter, thinking to shake Selina awake so he could get her opinion on all this. After all, in his mind, the presence of more people – or maybe trolls, if trolls knew how to use fire – so close by probably boded ill, but she was the experienced one.

Moments before he touched her, though, he realized that she might end up screaming or making some other noises that would lead to them being discovered by whoever was down there, so in one of his more brilliant moments, he decided to cover her mouth before shaking her shoulder.

...perhaps, had he thought about it some more, or been used to dealing with sleeping girls, he would not have ended up on the ground when she woke up swinging, with a wild haymaker breaking his nose and sending him sprawling.

'… _oww…'_

Like a cat, she rolled to her feet, snatching her glasses from beside her head and putting them on, her leg poised to step forward and step on—

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, Matou," the girl said, realizing what she'd done. Drawing her wand, she pointed it at his face and called out " _Episkey_ ", with Shinji's nose feeling very hot, then very, very cold, catching the boy's attention. And then he noticed - the pain was gone.

"Huh," he said to himself as he got to his feet gingerly. "Healing is that easy?"

"Well, small things, yes. Larger things I can't do yet," the bespectacled blonde replied. "You alright?"

"I was before you hit me," Shinji grumbled. "What'd you do that for anyway?"

"I woke up with someone covering my mouth and reaching for my clothes. What was I supposed to think?" the girl answered, with Shinji taking a moment to process that before going very, very red.

"I...I wasn't. I mean, I would never..."

"You would _never_ , huh..." she asked meaningfully.

"I uh, that is to say..." The boy glanced around for something, anything he could seize on as an excuse not to have this conversation right now. "There's trouble," he managed at last, looking towards the entrance.

"Oh?" Selina asked, before she noticed the smell too. "Ah. Cooking."

"Pork, I think."

"Or human," came the reply, one that had Shinji feeling vaguely nauseous. "They call it long-pork for a reason."

"Oh." The boy's thoughts came to a crashing halt. If Ernie had disappeared earlier, and this was weather only a troll could be out in, then…his thoughts trailed off, with Shinji finding himself growing nauseous. _'Don't tell me…they're…they're not cooking_ Ernie _are they?'_ "I'm not an expert but... _let's get out of here_?"

His last words came out as a strangled squeak.

"It's not a horrible idea," the blonde replied slowly. "Even if it's still raining. Still, where would we go? All we know is the copse of trees, and that wouldn't be great shelter."

"…point," Shinji allowed, shaking his head.

In the end, there was really no good choice to be had.

They could head off into the cold, rainy night, trusting that no one would ambush them when they used their wands to light the way, or they could stay in the room and catch what sleep they could, while hoping that no one would come up and check on what was happening on the surface, in case this hollowed rock happened to be some kind of crude equivalent of a refrigerator.

Shinji, unnerved by the smoke and what it could mean, argued that they should leave as soon as possible - that they should not wait for whatever fate might be coming for them. Selina, however, disagreed, stating that as neither of them were well rested, or had any idea what awaited them outside, they should at least wait for first light, so their wands wouldn't draw the attention of every even slightly curious creature in the area.

"Fine, we'll do it your way," the boy agreed, deferring to the blonde's greater experience in such matters - though not to her proposal that she take watch while he slept. Instead, he insisted that he would be fine, and said he could simply wait for first light with her, as three wands were better than one. "And about the fire?"

"We can bank that, so we don't cripple our night vision," Selina said decisively. "We'll just have to huddle against each other to stay warm though, if you're fine with that."

"I, uh, yes," Shinji agreed quickly. Perhaps too quickly, leading to him receiving a _look_ from the bespectacled blonde. "I mean, that sounds like a good idea."

It wasn't as if he was happy to have the chance to warm – and be warmed by – a pretty girl. He was just happy she was taking the danger seriously and didn't mind doing what was necessary.

So, they banked the fire, huddling together on the wall opposite the entrance, wrapped in robes, with their wands ready and waiting for any threats to their safety.

Because they were ready, vigilant for any threat, the pack of gytrashes that came upon them towards the end of the night was dealt with easily enough, with Shinji and Selina using pulses of the wand-lighting spell, _Lumos_ , to dispel them.

Yet…even that was anti-climactic, given they'd expected something worse, something…more.

Nothing else of note happened that night, except that sometime during it, the smoke stopped, and soon enough, first light came, with neither of the feeling particularly well rested.

* * *

In the morning, they departed, heading towards the village which was allegedly only an hour away by broom, but which, on foot, seemed like some ever-distant utopia that they could walk and walk and walk towards, yet never reach. They had gone for about an hour before the mists rolled in, in the meantime managing to swing by the copse of trees where they found some delicious looking berries.

Selina pointed out that they looked edible, and Shinji, all too happy to seize on any excuse to get _something_ to eat, picked and tried some.

She was right, it seemed – or maybe just lucky – as the berries were not only not poisonous, but delicious, more so than anything he'd ever tasted, or so he thought to himself.

Sadly, they didn't manage to find Ernie, but well, if they'd been right about the smoke the night before…

' _It's just as well.'_

Continuing on from there, they eventually reached the edge of a sunken bog, with the compass pointing for them to continue through it if they wanted to reach the village. Going around it – if they could, would no doubt be an ordeal that would make their journey far longer than it had to be. Yet, going through it seemed just as bad, as the place was likely filled with insects and other dangerous creatures, and Shinji didn't really think the village was hidden in the bog.

* * *

In the end, they chose to go around, thinking that they'd rather take their chances with distance than whatever lurked out under the water. It was bad enough to not be able to see very far in front of one's face due to the fog – to not be certain what one would be stepping into would be even worse.

Bogs had quicksand, after all, in addition to savage beasts – horrible ones, he imagined, from the strange sounds emanating from the bog, the cries of animals and the sound of heavy steps.

So they walked onwards, with the mist obscuring any true sense of the passage of time, continuing on and on and on, until they stumbled to a halt as they nearly ran into a troll – or at least, the blasted ruin of what had once been a troll, with great spikes of ice protruding from every orifice, and blood pooling on the ground around it.

' _What the hell?'_

What could have done something like this? And was it worth sticking around to find out?

After all, if there was one thing that Matou Shinji had learned over this entire year of dealing with Quirrell's scenarios, it was that the old adage that "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" was not always accurate. That was, the enemy of his enemy was his enemy's enemy – no more, and no less. Presuming otherwise in this place was not only naive, but foolish.

Yes – something killed this troll with what seemed like great ease, speaking of the power of the troll's enemy, but that was no reason to assume that whatever had done this was necessarily friendly to practitioners of witchcraft – or in general, to intruders.

"Let's not stick around," Shinji whispered to Selina, with the blonde only nodding as they pressed onwards without tarrying, only to run across another mangled troll corpse after about an hour, killed in much the same fashion.

"Huh," Shinji grunted.

"Huh, indeed," Selina agreed. "Any ideas?"

"…well, I don't want to stop for this one either, but maybe I should draw my knife? That way, if anything dangerous is coming our way, it should glow, right?"

Such was the theory anyway.

"Sounds like a plan."

So, as they moved, the boy drew his knife, hoping that its metal blade would be dark, but as the steel sang free of the sheath, it disappointed him by glowing with a baleful blue light. Enemies were about, it seemed, though how near – and how many – Shinji had no idea, as the only thing the note on the scabbard had said was that the blade glowed in the presence of enemies.

Though...perhaps he wouldn't have to imagine for long, since, as he looked on...

 _'...is the glow getting brighter?'_

"Do you see that?" Selina asked, tugging on the boy's sleeve so that he came to a halt. "Whatever the blade is reacting to, we're walking right towards it."

"...or its coming towards us," Shinji replied, noting that the brightness of the blade was indeed increasing, with what had been a faint glow now blazing as brightly as a newborn star.

His eyes darted wildly about, but with the fog about them obscuring visibility beyond a few meters and muffling sound to a degree, none of them knew what was coming for them – only that something _was_.

It was blind luck, really, that they managed to catch sight of their pursuer lumbering out of the fog.

"Wait...isn't that..." Shinji asked, recognizing the form of their enemy. "But that...it was..."

"Undead. _Undead troll_ ," Selina whispered, drawing her wand, her complexion ashen as she looked upon its mangled form and the way the ice riddling its body seemed to pulse with an unearthly light.

Its gait was ungainly, and it didn't seem to be able to see them, though it didn't have to see them to be a threat, as it lumbered right for them.

Was it smelling them? Or...

 _'...is it the knife?'_

Thinking quickly, Shinji placed the blade back in the sheath, hoping that if the troll wight was indeed tracking them via the enchanted blade, it would lose interest once the blade wasn't out anymore. Sadly, things were not that easy, as the troll continued towards them.

Perhaps it was just continuing on its previous course, and he could just evade it then?

The boy changed directions, tugging Selina after him as—

" **—** "

A blast of icy wind sent him sprawling, with his blade falling out of his sheath to land by his feet – and as if noticing it, the troll _changed direction_ until it was coming at him once more.

' _No. Damnit, let it have the knife. I'm out of here.'_

It was with some regret that Matou Shinji left the knife behind as he got to his feet, but such were the necessities of survival. Obviously, something about the knife was catching the undead troll's attention, so if he had to sacrifice it to lure the creature away from him while he and Selina fled, he would.

...and it worked, as the troll lumbered over to the knife and stopped, giving Shinji the chance he needed to grab Selina and run before it changed its mind.

They ran. They ran and ran and _ran_ some more, their feet carrying them far and fast, not really caring where they ran, as long as it carried them away from the deadly creature that had stalked them through the fog.

Eventually, they came to a halt, with the mist seeming denser around them somehow. Where they were now, neither of them knew for sure, only that they'd lost sight of the bog and that the ground was dry and flat.

"...I..." Shinji panted, his face red as he swayed back and forth. "I...we...got..."

"We got away," Selina murmured. "But now..." she paused, shaking her head. "Where are we?"

"Does that...does that compass tell us?" the Japanese boy asked, his heart pounding away in his chest as he glanced at the blonde girl, whose face seemed...flushed.

"Let's see," she whispered breathlessly, taking the aforementioned device out of her robes and setting it to work. She looked at the two hands, and to where they pointed, frowning. "We went north-east, when we need to be going west," she said after a moment.

"Oh."

"We could rest here for a bit, if you want. Or we could go north for a while longer, maybe get clear of the bog entirely...or..."

"Or?"

"Or we could go back towards the bog and keep following it. Up to you."

"North," Shinji said quickly. "If we go back towards the bog, we might run into that… _thing_ again."

"…point," Selina conceded.

Seeing no better option, the duo moved slowly north, making their way as best they could as their breathing recovered, and the relief that they had escaped certain death at the hands of that troll wight finally seeped in.

"What...could do that kind of thing?" Shinji asked quietly. "Using ice to reanimate a troll."

"...some kind of necromancer?" Selina suggested as she walked beside him. "Or maybe a shaman of some kind, if the corpse is being possessed by some other spirit?"

"...you know a lot about this," the Japanese boy stated - not accusingly, just stating a point of fact. "Dealt with the undead before?"

"You could say that. Usually helps to have a cleric around though..."

Shinji grunted.

"...that is about one of the few things the Church is good for," he muttered to himself.

"Hm, what was that?"

"Nothing," he said evasively.

Fortunately, they didn't encounter anything else that seemed too hostile, save for the pogrebin which Matou Shinji utterly obliterated with an overpowered knockback spell, with Selina commenting that she didn't know that _Flipendo_ was capable of such damage.

Eventually though, as the day began to draw to an end, the mist began to clear, revealing three things...

...to the North, a weathered ruin, something like a tower, or perhaps a wall.

...to the north-west, a grove of trees.

And just to the west of them, some kind of odd mound.

All of them seemed as if they could be reached in about an hour of walking, but at this point, the two were wary of the weather, knowing that as soon as it was dark, rain and hail might follow. Thus they headed north, in the belief that the ruin would probably offer decent shelter.

From the distance, it seemed like a watchtower of some kind, or perhaps the end of a wall, but as they approached, they could see it was more than that. It was a half-buried pyramid, perhaps something like a temple, with the outside weathered and cracked, and nary an entrance in sight.

Well, not quite...

As they walked on, they stepped on something, with part of the stone of a platform they stood on sliding forward with a _click_ , revealing something like steps leading down into the darkness.

"Shall we?" Selina asked, raising an eyebrow, with Shinji nodding.

"Why not?"

So they went inside, with the boy holding up one of his wands for light as they descend the worn stairs. As they descended, the boy glanced back, just to confirm the way was still open, only to find that the opening had sealed itself behind them. Unless they found another way out, they were trapped here. They could only advance, only head down.

Eventually they stepped off the stairs onto the ground, in the very center of an ornately carved chamber which seemed to chronicle the history of what seemed like those who had once lived around here, if the images of war and death were any indication. There were old mounts for what seemed like torches about, and dark tunnels stretching into the distance.

Shinji, thinking that perhaps Selina would be better served carrying a torch so he could use both his wands for spell-casting if needed, used his free wand to cast _Incendio_ at one of the mountings on the wall. And as if in response to his spell, the space above the ironwood mount burst into flame, as eerie green light illuminated the center chamber, with torches lighting up one after another down the tunnels, revealing what the darkness had once hidden in all of them, save one.

At the end of one tunnel, there seemed to be a mirror-smooth wall.

At the end of a second, there was a flash of metal.

At the end of a third, there was something like a stone wall - perhaps there was a dog leg somewhere?

At the end of fourth, there was only darkness.

"We could go down one of these, but…I'm tired," Shinji grunted. He hadn't had any sleep, after all, and even Selina, who had gotten _some_ sleep, seemed worn out as well, which was only to be expected after being made to run for her life.

"Agreed," Selina conceded. "We'll save the adventuring for after we rest up, hm? Can't be running on both an empty stomach and a sleep debt."

"At least we had those berries."

"Yeah..."

The conversation mostly died after that, as there was little to say.

Shinji, noting that it seemed warm enough down here, didn't see a need to duplicate robes, and suggested that they just sit against a wall and sleep that way.

"Can't hurt for one night, right?"

"Fair. You want to sleep first?" Selina offered.

But Shinji shook his head.

"No, I woke you up – I'll finish out this shift, and then sleep, so I don't have to be interrupted," he said with a weak smile.

"Suit yourself."

"Oh, I will."

He thought of it as being a gentleman, someone _senpai_ would be proud of – or at least, he thought she might. He didn't know really, and she'd never really know what he did in this scenario unless he told her – and he wasn't about to, since that would be fishing for praise a bit too obviously.

He _was_ tired though, so he walked to keep himself away, going round and round and round the central chamber, his footsteps painfully loud in the silence. Down here, in the bowels of the earth, there was very little else that could be heard, save for Selina's cute little snores. Asleep, by odd green torchlight, the fearsome adventuress seemed so frail, so vulnerable, yet he knew that if anything disturbed her, she would awaken with a vengeance.

His nose throbbed with phantom pain as he remembered the sure swiftness of her blows – just about the same as he expected of a magus.

 _'Why is it that all the girls around me are so...formidable?'_ he wondered. Was it just chance, or was it perhaps fate? Or a curse of some sort due either to his actions or those of his ancestors? _'Well, maybe those or my ancestors. My karmic weight shouldn't be heavy enough to affect my destiny.'_

Though speaking of destiny...

He whirled about, thinking he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, only there was nothing.

 _'Am I seeing things now?'_ he mused. He was quite tired, but _that_ tired?

All he was looking at was a scene of what looked like leaner, hardier trolls with vicious looking weapons, standing over the beheaded corpse of some strange being.

...one of the trolls was roaring in triumph, holding up the head of their vanquished foe, but the head...was smiling.

Shinji felt a shiver go down his spine, as something told him that the victim's killers had not met with a wonderful fate.

Such seemed to be the case on the next mural, with the trolls in the painting shifting into something much more...monstrous, their forms splattered in blood as they left the corpse behind.

And then...

Shinji didn't understand why the next few scenes were of trolls killing one another, or why they seemed to be rampaging in the ruins of some vast city.

Covered in gore, the berserker approached the pyramid at the city's heart...

The other walls were blank or so damaged he couldn't see what had been painted on them.

 _Movement._

He turned again, but there was nothing there.

Or was there? Was something moving just out of sight whenever he turned?

He glanced all about, but there was nothing there. He...

 _There!_

...no, that was only his shadow.

The green light was making him see things, as it flickered and waved like fire. Still, there was nothing dangerous here, he thought. Perhaps it would be worth it to just go to sleep? Or maybe he should wake Selina, say it was her time to go on watch?

'… _no. That wouldn't be right. I already interrupted her rest once. I don't have the right to do it again. Not if it isn't actually an emergency.'_

Whether it was due to him putting chivalry over reason or simply due to him not wanting to get his nose broken by Selina's surprisingly powerful right hook, the boy decided to tough it out, his footsteps echoing on stone amid the crackling of the verdant flames. Though...he wondered, as he passed them time and time again if they were true flames.

 _'If they are real flames, is there enough air for both us and the torches?'_

And if not...what were they burning? Was this pyramid structure drawing energy from ley lines? Was it perhaps burning the life energy of those who entered this place?

For that matter, what manner of place had this once been? A palace? A temple? Something else entirely?

As the hours dragged on, the boy found his thoughts wandering so, with him trying his best to focus on the present by examining his surroundings more closely, attempting to puzzle out if there was a pattern in the randomness of the flickering, and if something really was moving, or if he was imagining it entirely.

That was when he noticed that as he came closer to the torches, the crackling of the flames almost sounded like whispers - well, if one tried to imagine what the whisper of a troll might sound like.

 **Atra. Noshraka. Nifle. Ait. Ushara.**

Was that really there, though? Or was he only imagining it, his mind giving meaning to meaningless noise in an attempt to make sense of nothingness. The mind abhorred a vacuum, after all, and would do what it took to fill it with something, no matter how strange that something sometimes was.

 **Atra. Noshraka. Nifle. Ait. Ushara.**

He was tempted, sorely tempted, to repeat the nonsense words and see what happened, but he managed to shake off the impulse.

' _What am I doing? Why did I even think about repeating those words, not knowing what they are?'_

Thinking that perhaps getting away from the chamber would help him to clear his mind, the boy made for the stairs, proceeding to climb them slowly, forcing himself to breathe deeply as he did so. Yet as he stepped, as he breathed, he felt the world itself shifting and wavering around him, as if there was some kind of odd boundary he was walking through - and as he stepped above halfway, the green firelight seemed to wink out, with the boy finding that the world had _twanged_.

 _'What?'_

With a mutter of _Lumos_ , he peered downward, only to freeze as he saw that the central room was mostly in ruins, and that against the wall - which he'd missed - somehow, there were sarcophagi. Some closed, some open, some cracked with bits of white bone peering out.

 _'What on earth...'_

This wasn't a temple.

It was a _mausoleum_. And none of the murals he'd seen before were there at all.

Had it been an illusion? Or...

...was it the dream of the dead?

' _I think this counts as an emergency. Selina needs to hear this.'_

* * *

The blonde seemed somewhat grumpy when woken, with it being evident that she hadn't gotten an excessive amount of sleep, though thankfully, she didn't break his nose this time.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing up at Shinji in the dim glow of the flames. "Is it my turn on watch?"

"No...there's...a situation."

"What is it?" she repeated.

"These torches – this central chamber – none of this is really here."

Selina blinked, glancing around, her eyebrow lifting quizzically.

"Explain."

"I went up the staircase a bit, and after a while, the torchlight seemed to die. I lit my wand to see what happened, but what I saw..." He shuddered.

"What?"

"Bones. Rubble. Dust and ashes. There are no torches. The walls covered by the murals are caved in. We're in the middle of a mausoleum." The boy swallowed. "A _troll_ mausoleum."

"Well...that's something," Selina murmured. "But if there's nothing, then..." She gestured to their surroundings. "An illusion?"

"An illusion, I think. Or a memory playing through our minds."

"A memory? From—"

"The dead," Shinji intoned. "Something is here with us. Something that isn't dead, even if everything else is."

"It's showing us this place?"

The boy nodded.

"There has to be a reason then..."

"Does there?" the boy asked. "What if there is no purpose, no reason at all?"

"There aren't many things for which there is no purpose or reason at all," Selina noted, with Shinji nodding reluctantly. "But if things are as you say, perhaps we are being shown this place for a reason. Perhaps we are meant to explore one of the side passages?"

"Or maybe we should just leave while we can," Shinji suggested. "The hail must have died down by now."

"Maybe," Selina related. "Still, we've come this far, it would be a shame to fly away from here, leaving it unexplored."

"...do as you like," Shinji grunted, knowing that his judgement was impaired, and trusting Selina to do the intellectual heavy lifting, since she had actually gotten some amount of sleep. Well, that and she was the one who'd grown up going on adventures, much like him, as the closest he had come to being on an adventure was being sent to boarding school in Britain during the Fourth War.

He watched as the blonde stood, snatched a torch from the wall, and headed towards the lone tunnel shrouded in darkness - the tunnel along which there were no torches, oddly enough.

"Why there?"

"Because if you're right about this whole area being under an illusion, I'd wager that the darkness is where the illusion doesn't reach," Selina reasoned, with Shinji nodding slowly.

"That...I guess that makes sense," the boy replied. "You sure you want to go into there?"

"Well, it would make me feel safer if I had your wands at my back," the blonde answered, with the Hufflepuff sighing.

"Let's hope you're right," Shinji grunted, gesturing at the pitch-black mouth of the tunnel, ringed by torches. "Ladies first."

They walked into the darkness, bearing aloft a torch of green. In this tunnel, there was something thick and cloying, with the darkness less the absence of light than something almost tangible, just beyond his ability to reach out and grasp.

Slippery, oily threads sifting through his thoughts like a metaphysical skein.

They walked.

They walked.

They walked.

They—

The boy reeled, the world spinning around him, as the darkness is torn away, with the two of them finding themselves standing amidst...

 _'No...'_

Shinji felt his nerves begin to run backward, his emotions frozen and red hot all at once, as the room around him was not empty. All around him – around Selina – there were worms - innumerable worms. A great rotten living mass of worms, writhing and squirming and slithering about.

 _'What.'_

What was before him was impossible, and yet...and yet it was before him even so. Worms, hissing. Worms, burrowing. Worms, screeching. Worms...taking the shape of a man. Worms forming misshapen feet, skin, ankles. Worms burrowing into worms, with a sound that he found familiar yet terrifying.

Not a mere handful of worms. Not a mere dozen. Not hundreds. Not thousands.

Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. So many that if a human were to be swarmed by the black carpet, they would not last even a minute, with all their bones and meat taken by the worms, skin melted away, leaving nothing. This...this person, this being, this thing could not be here, his mind screamed, but humans weren't really rational creatures, for all they pretended to be.

And so, the boy shivered, staggering as worms entered the mass, as mad laughter filled the room, with the one laughing being an old, withered man, a man that Matou Shinji called...

"…grandfather."

The abomination looked at him, through him, past him, not even acknowledging him, as if he was invisible, looking at...

...looking at Selina.

" **Die** ," growled the worm that walked, and its servitors – an infinite swarm of worms – surged forward to devour them whole.

But Matou Shinji had had **enough** of being ignored. He'd had **enough** of being dismissed. He'd had **enough** of being thought of as no threat at all - as nothing even close to a threat.

Yes, it was true that compared to Matou Zouken, he was nothing – for what worth could someone like him hold next to an archmagus who had devised a way to control existences on the order of Heroic Spirits?

But this thing before him - it wasn't Matou Zouken.

It might look the same. It might sound the same. It might even hurt him the same.

But in the end, it was only a **fake** , an illusion, a memory given form and substances by the power of the tome he was exploring, bound by its rules.

 _'That's right. You're not real. You're only a fake pretending to be something you aren't.'_

...much like Shinji himself.

The boy's wands came up, a cry of _Verdimillious Tria_ already on his lips as purple-black lightning hissed across the distance, flash-frying any worm which dared come near. They were weak, feeble at first, but as the boy reached deep inside himself, drawing on what reserves he had and pouring everything into his desire to erase the being before him, the jagged lances of power sped forth with a ferocity exceeding anything he'd done before.

Forks of lightning raced forth from one wand, then the other, then _between the wands,_ with a wave of darkness surging forth from that union that erased that which was before him as his blood pounded in his skull.

 **Destroy. Destroy. Destroy.**

Perhaps the world might crush him, might tear him apart with its careless disregard for human life, but he would not lose to something in his mind – to a mere memory trying to make him the same as it.

"I will not lose to a memory. I will never **be** a memory," he snarled, reaching into himself, taking his fear and tempering it into anger, taking his anger and refining it into hatred, taking his hatred and turning into power, pure and unrestrained. "I will be someone!"

Before his onslaught, the worms – and their originator – _shattered_ , as lances of shadow tore through what was left, ripping the space itself before him to shreds as Shinji laughed and laughed and **laughed**.

How long he stood there, laughing, his magic tearing at the world, he didn't know, only that when he returned to himself, he was still standing, with the wand he'd obtained from _Mahoutokoro_ hand, and…a blackened husk of a holly and phoenix feather wand in the other.

Selina stood beside him, her features impassive.

"Was that a monster?" she asked him. "An enemy from your deepest nightmares?"

"...no, that was my grandfather," the boy replied tersely.

He said no more, as this was not the time for it, but promised they would speak again on the matter after this was all over.

And soon enough, it was.

With his newfound power, the rest of the challenge proved simple enough, with both of them finding their way to the destination as reality shifted around them, and obstacles were simply _erased_ as if they had never been.

Upon reaching the village, completing the objective they'd been given, the false world faded away completely, with the two finding themselves standing in the classroom, where Professor Quirrell was looking at the two of them as if he couldn't decide if he was pleased or not.

He seemed to come to a decision soon enough, however.

"...so, it seems you have completed the scenario, though not without damaging it irreparably," he said, amiably enough, shaking his head. "When I first learned of what you were capable of, Matou, I did not expect you to develop your abilities to this extent – though…you should know that a wand, however mighty, was never meant to contain that sort of power."

Selina glanced at the boy, but Shinji just stood there, gripping both the wand of cherry he'd obtained from _Mahoutokoro_ and the burned-out husk of the wand of holly he'd bought from Ollivander, which felt like it would crumble to ash if he used it any further.

"At least a wand not designed for…those sort of abilities," the man intoned silkily. "What a curious person you are, Matou Shinji."

"What do you know—"

"More than you imagine and less than I hope," Quirrell answered, cutting him off. "I know, for instance, that wands are a sort of echo of a living thing. That they grow with the user and have a will of their own, animated by the magic channeled through them. Yet, if they are forced to do something they cannot endure, they may be damaged – or destroyed…say, should the wrong sort of spell be used."

"The wrong sort of spell?"

"Say, if instead of channeling one's usual magic, one channeled something...else. Something far more powerful, far less…restrained. I believe you know of what I speak…"

"Ah..."

"In any case, Miss Moore, you are quite correct," he said, turning to the bespectacled blonde. "You called Mister Matou a warlock, did you not?"

Selina nodded, glancing over at the boy.

"It seems you have some measure of insight into…characters like him," the man noted. "In any case, congratulations. I wish you luck in your final exams and look forward to seeing what new arts you may learn by summer's end. I'm sure that your colleague, Macmillan would have wanted to congratulate you, but alas – he seemed to fall ill."

"Oh no!" Selina said, bringing her hand to her mouth. "What happened?"

"Oh, I'm not sure exactly," Quirrell replied. "Perhaps he didn't care for the sight of worms." He smiled, very thinly. "I let him observe, you see, so he could know what a successful adventuring couple looked like."

"Um, w-we're not a couple or anything," Shinji stammered. "D-don't get the wrong idea."

The man laughed.

"Oh, I'm certain I won't," the Defense Professor intoned. "The question is, will Macmillan?"


	45. Conversations

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Chapter 44.** _Conversations_

Unlike Selina Moore, the storyteller who enjoyed sharing tidbits from her many adventures, Matou Shinji was a much more private individual. Were it up to him, he wouldn't be talking about his past to yet another person, but well…he owed Selina some answers, after the events of the scenario.

…in particular, the part where he'd summoned dark lightning to erase a simulacrum of his grandfather from the world, while _laughing._

She'd agreed not to speak of it to anyone else, in exchange for as full an explanation as he was willing to provide at a later date, and well, after a week or so had gone by and he thought she'd forgotten, he'd received a note from her at breakfast, asking if he'd found some time for them to chat.

' _She's never going to let it go,'_ he'd realized, with it dawning on him that refusing to talk to the person he would be spending the summer with could make things very awkward indeed. Or could even lead to him being…disinvited from their summer trip in favor of something else, something which the boy did _not_ want to see happen. Not because he wanted to go to France, mind you, but because he'd had enough of being passed over, of being set aside, of being _replaced._

So he'd written her a note inviting her to a picnic by the lake, figuring that if they were to talk about such weighty matters, it might as well be somewhere where others were unlikely to come by, and that things might go easier if the blonde was disarmed by the promise of good weather and good food to go with the answers she sought.

Thankfully she'd agreed, and so the late morning found them setting up for said picnic by the gnarled tree at the shore, assisted by House Elves laded with buckets of fried chicken, fried potato wedges, and a salad of various boiled greens topped with slices of egg. It was admittedly a good contrast to their last experience with a great body of water, with trolls and other vile creatures popping out of nowhere to ambush them.

Shinji mentioned as such, with Selina chuckling slightly.

"Well, it's not as if we would ever have to fight a troll while at school, right?" the girl commented wryly. "After all, Hogwarts is supposed to be 'the safest place in all of Wizarding Britain,' since people care about children more than anything else."

"And if you believe that, I have some ancient relics I'd like to sell you," Shinji replied, his voice dry as bone. "Why, I'll even throw in information on a ritual some…practitioners use to pass their knowledge on. Something about carving the knowledge into yourself and making a circuit…"

"Heh. You know, I wouldn't put it past some wizards, but…I don't think you'd have any reason to know about such things." Selina mentioned pointedly.

"…point. I've only ever heard of it," the boy added defensively.

"Right…" Selina grunted, shaking her head. "About the scenario then? There were things you wanted to talk about. Things you didn't want other people to hear?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"Well, it gave me more respect for Weasley, if that's what you mean," Shinji joked, remembering how the redheaded boy had somehow managed to escape the dangers of that scenario.

The blonde rolled her eyes.

"You know very well what I mean, Matou," she retorted, with the boy's face falling as she did.

"Right. Well…where do I even begin?" he asked, having little idea of what she wanted to hear. There had been so much that had happened – the encounter with the false version of his grandfather, the origin of his odd powers, the fact that he had…issues…

Or how, in the end, he'd been able to turn his hatred of his grandfather and everything the archmagus represented into a terrible weapon…

"Normally, one would begin at the beginning, but before that…"

"Yes…?" the boy inquired.

"Well, first things first – did you invite anyone else to this picnic, or is it just the two of us?" Selina asked with a sultry smile, looking up at the boy through her lashes.

Shinji blinked.

"Uh, well…Natsumi and Amber are on their way," he responded after a moment. "I… _we've_ talked about things like…like _this_ before," he added, by way of explanation.

There was a beat, with only the sound of the wind and water filling the silence, before…

"You trust them, even with your secrets," the blonde murmured, something quite unreadable in her voice.

"Some of them," the boy admitted. "Others…"

"You have more, then?"

Shinji looked pointedly at the self-professed adventuress.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"…touché."

* * *

If asked, Shinji would have said that the reason he invited Natsumi and Amber to join them was because they could fill in details that he glossed over and provide some objectivity to the discussion. He wouldn't have admitted (or perhaps would only have admitted under extreme duress) that he'd asked them to be here because he didn't want to talk about his past without some sort of emotional support, and well, he didn't want to bother _senpai,_ as she was busy with one thing or another.

And to be frank, he needed the support, since speaking about his _family_ – even just his _grandfather,_ not his… _sister_ , was difficult for him.

Indeed, as he spoke, a dark haze was visible around his body, almost making his image shimmer or perhaps sparkle in the afternoon sun. What he shared – it wasn't everything, wasn't even close to everything, but it was enough for Selina to get an idea of the darkness within Matou Shinji's heart of hearts.

"Yeah, I'm afraid, but I told myself that if I have to be afraid, I might as well turn fear into power," he muttered, with Natsumi reaching out and squeezing his hand supportively. "Fear, anger, hate – for so long, these things tormented me because I was…" His voice hitched, and he swallowed. "…because I was powerless, compared to people like th—like my grandfather. Well, no more. No more. No more."

For a long moment, silence reigned, with none of those present knowing just what to say. Eventually though, Selina broke the silence.

"I had no idea that was how you became a warlock," the bespectacled blonde murmured softly. "To make the darkness into your power…you are stronger than you let on."

"...even if I am, I'm not yet strong enough," Shinji replied, shaking his head. "Even if I can erase constructs, can unmake things made with witchcraft...it's not enough." He sighed heavily, swallowing. "It's not enough," he repeated. "I need…I need to do more, to _become_ more."

"' _More'_ you say?" Amber asked quietly.

"That's right. More," the boy said. "Until it's finally enough."

"…and what would be enough?" she pressed.

The boy's expression was almost sad as he heard the question, his lips twisting in an odd way, as if the very notion of something being enough was almost absurd. Yet, if that was what he thought, he didn't speak such words aloud.

"When I possess a power that can twist the laws of cause and effect, reverse black and white, overturn the order of the World," the boy stated, his eyes intent and intense with a fervor bordering on madness. "A power that can remake what has been unmade, can unmake things set in stone. A power that comes from reaching the root of all creation…" He smiled brittlely. "Something like that."

"…that…that doesn't sound like something a person can actually do," Amber tried to point out, but Shinji shook his head.

"Some have managed it," he disagreed. "You've even met one of them – one of the five who remain in the modern age."

"The five...?" Natsumi echoed, brows furrowed in concentration. "Who…?"

"Well, Miss Blue, for one," the boy pointed out. "The Master of the Fifth Magic."

"...the woman from the museum?"

"Yes."

"...she didn't look that scary," Selina murmured thoughtfully, glancing between the Japanese boy and his two female friends. "But I suppose power doesn't have to be immediately obvious."

"Even if she's a monster, she's still human," Shinji muttered, shaking his head. "It's not like she's a Dead Apostle or something."

"A…what?" Amber echoed. "Did you say Dead Apostle?"

"Eh, like a vampire, but even more deadly," the boy explained. "It's not important – you wouldn't run into one around Hogwarts." Then he paused, as something about that statement seemed to ring false to him, though he wasn't sure what. "At least, probably not. One would have no reason to be here."

"You called Miss Blue a monster…as if you were terrified of her," the blonde said, trying to return the conversation to its original flow. "Why?"

"Because she is one of the five most terrifying beings in the world, unbound by any rules other than those she chooses to follow," the boy replied, shaking his head. "No practitioner – no army in the modern age – could stand against her if she desired their end. Someone like me – she could have erased me with a _thought_ , and made the world forget I existed in the next."

"I—I wouldn't forget!" Natsumi spoke up, puffing out her cheeks indignantly. "Even if Miss Blue wanted me to!"

Shinji, startled by the brunette's outburst, glanced over at here, finding that his chest felt…warm as he drank in the feelings behind her words, even if she said was impossible. Opposing a Magician…it couldn't really be done unless one either was a magician or something far beyond human.

"I…it would be nice if that were true," the boy whispered, a look of profound loneliness writ across his features. "If you could defy her like that. But you can't…"

"...she's that powerful?" Natsumi questioned, her eyebrows rising in shock from the revelation.

"She is," Shinji stated solemnly. "Powerful enough that opposing her would be ruinous, unless you were as powerful as she."

"Then I'll become that powerful," the brunette replied, just as solemnly. "One day, you and I will both gain that sort of power, and through power, we will gain victory. Maybe not over her, but over our fears, over the things we tell ourselves. And through victory…our chains will be broken."

Shinji was taken aback by this declaration, but nodded.

"…well, we can certainly try. It depends on if we can, you know."

"No, it doesn't. It's not a matter of can or can't," Natsumi pressed. "Some things in life, you just do."

"…just like that?"

"Well, no, but you're a Hufflepuff. You can't be afraid of hard work," the Japanese girl quipped, with the boy smiling weakly at that.

"You've got me there," Shinji conceded.

"So, about Miss Blue," Selina chimed in, "How is it we don't learn about people like her?"

To this, the Hufflepuff boy shrugged.

"Maybe the Ministry doesn't know. Maybe its terrified. Maybe it just thinks there's no point – I don't know, and I don't really want to find out."

* * *

The other odd conversation that Shinji found himself involved came unexpectedly, with the boy being sent a missive at breakfast directing him to head to a specific room in the Castle at dinner time. Said room was on the seventh floor of Hogwarts, across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to train trolls in ballet, and when he arrived, he found Miyuki-senpai gesturing for him to enter, closing the door behind him once he did.

His eyes glanced about the room, finding it to be a near-perfect replica of the Headmaster's office, with magical looking instruments scattered all over the shelves, a pile of books on the desk, and a small round table around which the others who had been invited for the evening were seated.

Hermione Granger and Nigel Wroxton from Ravenclaw.

Natsumi and Ernie from Hufflepuff.

"Did you…ask us all to come here tonight, Senpai?" the boy asked after he took a seat, turning to the older girl who'd sat down next to him with a touch of concern. Could it be…that she had called them together to let them know she was leaving? But no…if that were so, there would be no reason to invite Granger, and Amber would be present, so…

"No, such was my doing," a voice spoke from behind him, with Shinji (and the others) turning just in time to see a familiar looking face appear out of thin air, with the rest of Sialim Sokaris quickly following suit. Unlike her guests, who were dressed in black Hogwarts robes, the dusky-skinned girl was dressed in a flowing white gown, with her arms bare, save for a pair of golden armlets. "It is good that you have all come."

"What's going on, Sokaris?" Nigel spoke up, the grey-haired boy seeming torn between worry and curiosity. "Why call us all here tonight?"

"Of those at Hogwarts, you have been more than passing acquaintances," the purple-haired girl replied solemnly. "As such, it is…appropriate that you are informed I will not be returning the following year."

"Wha—" Hermione Granger nearly fell out of her seat in shock, saved from a nasty crash by the intervention of Natsumi, who absently gestured with her hand, setting the Ravenclaw girl back in her place. " _Why_?" she whispered hollowly, her features pale. "Why won't you be coming back?"

"I have been offered a position at another institution," Sialim Sokaris responded, her expression not changing a hint in the face of Hermione's distress. "One more suited to the study of Alchemy."

"Ah."

There was little that Hermione – or anyone in the room – could say when confronted with that, as it was obvious to all of them that Hogwarts was perhaps not the best school for such, especially now that its Headmaster – a former pupil of Nicholas Flamel – had been missing for months, with no sign that he would ever return.

"Where will you go?" Shinji found himself asking.

"I doubt a British practitioner of witchcraft would recognize the name," Sokaris replied quietly, "as it is located on another continent."

"I see," Nigel said, after a moment of silence. "Why...like this?"

"It was the most efficient way."

The nature of the response stopped most of the first years cold.

"…tell them the rest, Sokaris," the voice of Miyuki Tsuji broke in, with the dusky-skinned girl nodding.

"It was the most efficient way, as you may discuss which of my possessions you desire."

"That is, the curriculum at her new institution is quite different from Hogwarts, and so she is giving away most of what she purchased for her time here," the raven-haired Hufflepuff supplied. "Six objects, enough for each one of us to have one."

One by one, the girl in question placed items were placed on the table.

A set of first through fifth year schoolbooks, each annotated by the eccentric Ravenclaw.

A pass permitting "the bearer" access to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library, home to some of the more expensive – and dangerous – tomes stored at the school, signed by Professor Quirrell himself.

A large, curiously blank piece of parchment.

A flute wrought of what seemed like glass, with intricate patterns etched along the interior which seemed almost like runes.

The enchanted cloak she'd worn to conceal her presence when they'd all arrived.

And last, but not least…

"No…you're…you're giving up your wand?" Hermione whispered, the finality of her friend's imminent departure underlined by the fact that she was offering them the instrument through which she wielded magic – a wand wrought of wood from an ancient olive tree, with a chimera scale – one of the rarest materials in the magical world – as a core. "But…why?"

"I have no further need of it," Sokaris replied evenly, with Hermione reeling as if struck.

"B-but wands choose witches, don't they?" the Ravenclaw brunette asked plaintively. "And you would just…you would just abandon it?"

"I have no particular attachment to this wand, nor does it have any particular attachment to me," the purple-haired girl stated bluntly. "It is an old and finely made instrument, but another Code may be better suited for what I am now."

Shinji blinked.

'… _Code…?'_ he echoed in his mind, his thoughts working furiously. _'As in…a Mystic Code…?'_ But why…would she know that term? It wasn't a term anyone who wasn't a magus – or who knew of them – would readily use, after all, so… _'Who are you…?'_

Admittedly, he'd wondered that about the girl for quite a while now, ever since his demon form had recoiled from the mere thought of attacking her, but it was also a question he was careful not to give too much thought to, lest he find the answers he sought and be destroyed by them.

After all, either she was like him, a scion of a family of magi who was had little power of her own…or she wasn't.

And if she wasn't…

…well, there were _reasons_ the boy carefully tried not to think about things too much.

"Do none of you desire this wand?" Sokaris inquired, looking from one guest to the next as her fingers stroked the wooden instrument in question. Most looked down, unwilling to give an answer – except for Shinji, who found himself nodding when her eyes met his.

"I-I'll take it," the boy spoke up, with the purple-haired girl nodding as she handed the implement to him.

"Then it is yours," she said simply.

"…what are the magical properties of a wand made with chimera scale?" Nigel voiced, perhaps seconds too late. "Or olive wood, for that matter. I don't know much of wands or wandlore, but I do know that Ollivander doesn't use such materials in his wands."

"Such materials are not available to him," Sokaris replied. "Olive trees do not grow in Britain. Chimerae are extinct within the domain of man."

"And their properties?"

"Power enough to match any modern wand, and resilience against the most destructive energies of our Craft," the dusky-skinned girl remarked, something that made Shinji sit up straighter. After the holly and phoenix feather wand he'd wielded alongside his wand of cherry and worm, had been destroyed due to him channeling the darkness inside him, he'd thought that he might not be able to use such an ability again – or that at least, it would be very expensive and impractical to do so. But if this wand could survive even his most destructive abilities… _'This has possibilities.'_

"I-I see," the boy replied, bowing low in his seat. "Thank you for this, Sokaris!"

In the wake of Shinji's decision to accept the most significance-laden of the objects, the others turned to dividing up the rest of Sokaris' possessions, immediately hitting a snag over the disposition of her books, as Nigel, Natsumi, and Hermione all wanted them – and had, at least in their minds, fairly compelling reasons for their claim.

Nigel, of course, had been Sokaris' close companion over the last year, desired the books because he thought they would encourage him when she wasn't around, in addition to whatever he could learn from them.

Natsumi, who had worked closely with Sokaris, learning the craft of calculations and the arts of the mind from her, desired the books so that she might continue learning from the purple-haired girl once she was gone.

Hermione stated that Sokaris had been her first friend, and what while it was true she might not have understood her fellow Ravenclaw too well, believed that obtaining – and studying – the books, was the first step towards remedying that.

Shinji didn't know what to do in a situation like this, since it was obvious that none of the three were willing to budge or listen to someone else's arguments, and he didn't feel it was his place to step in.

Ernie, however, didn't seem to share his reluctance, clearing his throat and, when the others looked to him, producing a six-sided die.

"Why don't you roll for the prize?" the blond Hufflepuff asked, with Hermione blinking at the suggestion.

"What?"

"I said, why don't you roll for it?" the boy repeated. "Since you all have a claim, let's let chance or fate decide who gets the books? It's the fairest way, isn't it? Each of you roll the dice, and we'll see how things turn out."

Hermione looked reluctant, but Nigel seemed to think it a good idea.

"Well, why not? Only I suggest a small change," the grey-haired boy spoke up.

"Oh?"

"Each of us will roll for one of our rivals. I will roll for Natsumi, Natsumi will roll for Hermione, and Hermione will roll for me," Nigel explained. "That way, we eliminate any temptation for untoward play, since we wouldn't be rolling for ourselves."

"I…suppose that's fair," Natsumi grumbled, holding out her hand. "I'll roll first, but for Nigel."

Ernie handed over the die, and the brunette Hufflepuff did as she said she would, with the number **5** visible on top.

"Hm, not bad," the grey-haired boy noted, reaching over and picking up the die. "I'll roll next then, for Hermione."

Sadly for the brunette Ravenclaw, fortune did not seem to be in her favor, as Nigel rolled a **1** on her behalf.

Luck was not with Natsumi either, as Hermione rolled a **3** for her.

"In that case, the books will go to Nigel then," Ernie declared, smiling slightly. "I assume none of you have complaints?"

Hermione looked as if she had something to say but swallowed her words as she shook her head.

"He won the roll," Natsumi conceded, "so let him have the books. In that case, I'll take the parchment, if no one has any objections?"

This time, there were none to be heard, meaning that only the cloak, the restricted section pass, and the flute were left.

Ernie laid claim to the cloak. As a budding adventurer, a fine cloak – especially an invisibility cloak – was always a useful tool, with this one in particular having some useful features, such as helping the wearer maintain a comfortable temperature and increased their carrying capacity.

Hermione, who had never been politically musical, chose the pass to the Restricted Section, leaving Miyuki with the flute, though the Japanese girl didn't seem unsatisfied, as she said it would have been first choice in any case.

With all of _that_ settled, the group settled in for a meal – a last supper for their mutual friend, wishing her well, wherever she might go.


	46. Epilogue

**But For a Stone (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: What if there had never been a Boy-Who-Lived? What if, at the end of the Wizarding War, young Harry Potter had died alongside his mother and father, killed in the explosion that destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow? What if there was no figure of hope for the British Wizarding Community to rally around, just a knowledge of the high cost of victory? And how will Matou Shinji, fresh come into his status as a wizard, adapt in a Hogwarts with no easy route to fame...or notoriety?With this, Shinji's preparations for heading to Britain are now complete. He has a wand, basic school supplies, and books to study - both of which he has a decent aptitude for, and by the time he receives a Portkey to take him to Kings Cross, he feels ready.

* * *

 **Epilogue.** _Final Words_

Quirinus Quirrell looked up from a stack of papers he was grading and rose from his desk as three very familiar first-years walked into his classroom, their eyes brimming with confidence. Just glancing at the way they stood, as well as the gear they carried, it was obvious that they had grown since the beginning of the year – something he approved of, as it meant they had learned from their mistakes.

' _The world is a very dangerous place, once one leaves the borders of Britain behind,'_ he mused to himself. _'I learned that myself in Albania, where I sought to control something that_ then _was beyond me.'_

He'd gone there out of a desire to prove himself, to quiet the skeptics who thought that the furthest he would ever rise in was becoming a Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts, a man who taught children how Muggles lived and worked without the benefit of magic. Truth be told, he hadn't minded teaching Muggle Studies, as he found everything they had accomplished without the benefit of magic to be nothing short of remarkable. Indeed, his goal as a teacher had been to ensure his students appreciated the fact that their ability to use magic did not make them superior to Muggles.

One only had to consider whether it was Muggles who had conquered the known world or wizards and witches.

' _They, lacking the ability to reshape the world with magic, devised tools to let them affect the world on a scale far beyond what we are capable of. Our civilization is limited by what can be achieved by a few powerful individuals – theirs, only by the resources of the entire world and human imagination. Yes, there are Muggles that are dumb and brutish, and the technologies they use in place of magic require a great deal more effort than our spells to operate – but is it not we who went into hiding – and continue to hide – from_ them? _Is it not_ we _who_ borrow _from them, who_ steal _what they create because our imaginations have gone stale?'_

The Hogwarts Express, after all, was not created by magic – it was a manifestly Muggle creation that had been repurposed to meet the needs of magical population.

The wireless – which many wizarding families used today– was something _Muggles_ had invented, with wizards only later adopting the technology for their own use, as it opened so many doors for wizards in terms of entertainment or mass communications.

Even the food they enjoyed in Britain was taken from Muggle farms, which used not magic but modern industrial farming techniques to boost their yields to the degree that the amount of food necessary to support a population of about ten thousand was a negligible write-off.

In fact, if one examined wizarding society with a critical eye, one could see many, _many_ aspects that outright relied on either Muggle technology, or the existence of Muggle civilization.

The first time he'd come to that realization, the shock had nearly made him pass out.

After all, everything he'd ever been taught in Hogwarts talked about how great the wizarding world was – about how backwards Muggles were, even if they could sometimes be creative – about how wizards and witches were better than Muggles in many ways, given the alleged lack of things like racism and sexism in wizarding culture, though anyone who had seen how the Ministry treated goblins, werewolves and other non-human species knew that racism was alive and well, as did anyone who noticed the tensions between pure-bloods and muggleborns.

The one and only a Muggleborn had become Minister of Magic in Britain on the promise of reforms, he had been forced from office after being stricken with a terrible illness by a cabal of purebloods (including Abraxas Malfoy).

And of course, during the long war which ended just ten years ago, the Dark Lord had gathered many allies to his side by playing on pureblood fears that the rising number of Muggleborns would soon render them irrelevant.

' _And yet, even in the wake of that, Lucius Malfoy and his cronies – purebloods all – remain greatly influential in this country, having convinced the Wizengamot that he had been acting under the Imperius Curse.'_

Given all that, he thought it was rather hypocritical that his fellows tended to look down on Muggles, given that they managed a country of over _fifty-million_ _people_ more efficiently – and justly – than the Ministry managed their ten thousand.

Which was why in his classes, he had tried to break his students – particularly his pureblood students –of their unspoken assumptions of superiority, showing them just how insignificant they were in the face of death.

Honestly, it hadn't really surprised him that those who had done the best in his admittedly punishing scenarios had been muggleborns – at least those in the first and second year who hadn't yet had a chance to internalize too many bad habits.

Very, _very_ few beyond second year, muggleborn or pureblood, had performed at a level even approaching satisfactory, preferring to complain about how his challenges were impossible, when victory was very much _possible_ …merely very, very difficult.

' _That the means to obtain that victory may be rather unorthodox, unseemly, or unethical are neither here nor there…'_

So the trio before him proved, with how Miss Noel defied the conventions of the wizarding world to focus on her blade, how Miss Suzuki enjoyed using the abilities granted by Mopsus in place of her wand, and how Mister Matou used curses freely, as well as drawing on the power granted to him by the parasitic force inside of him.

 _'There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it.'_

So the man told himself as he said a few words to his students, that he might assess their readiness before sending them back into the water temple that so many of the others hated with a passion.

"A new wand, Mister Matou?" Quirrell asked, noting that the Japanese boy's second wand wasn't the nearly burned out husk of the holly and phoenix feather instrument he'd destroyed during the last challenge.

"A gift from Sokaris," the boy responded succinctly, meeting his eyes without much in the way of hesitation or uncertainty.

"So I see," the Defense Professor said dispassionately. "Perhaps this one will meet with a better fate than your last?"

"…I will make sure it does," Shinji replied, inclining his head slightly. "It would be rude if I were to just let it be destroyed, after all."

"Indeed, so try not to let that eventuality come to pass," Quirrell noted, before turning to the Japanese girl clutching a cylinder of black and chrome in her fingers. "Miss Suzuki, do you intend to use the…flashgun during your exam?" he inquired.

"Yes, Professor," Natsumi answered, nodding her head as she activated the device, and a stream of molten red light poured forth from the aperture at the end in a manner much like a spellbeam, if one was compressed and contained. "I believe it will be quite useful." She swung it through the air with a thrumming sound, clicking through a number of settings before powering it off. "Thank you for the gift, Professor."

"Of course, Miss Suzuki," the Defense Professor responded genially. "You earned it, after all. Though…you should know that most wizards would find such an implement cumbersome and unwieldy, compared to a wand."

"And yet, if an enemy closed in, it would be they who were helpless, not I," the Japanese girl retorted. "Besides, Matou-kun has my back. Don't you, Matou-kun?"

"I do," Shinji affirmed, his voice perhaps a bit gruffer than usual, which Quirrell found rather amusing. That there was something of a tension between the two was obvious, with the way they glanced at each other sometimes – though of course, most would be confused by how they would glance at the third member of their group – the young Amber Noel.

"It is good that you sound so certain, Mister Matou," the man noted, as he looked the boy in the eye, the corners of his lips tugging up into the beginnings of a smirk. "But after what happened last time, do you truly believe that you can protect everyone? What if…and this is purely a hypothetical, mind you…you end up having to _choose?_ "

"Choose?" the boy echoed, a range of emotions flashing across his face – anger, hurt, shock, insecurity, and more. "I, uh…I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do, Mister Matou, but I'll not say more about the matter, as you seem…uncomfortable with it," Quirrell added. "Just bear in mind that the realities of the world are rarely as merciful as any of us would wish. However mighty we may be, the wheels of fate do not always turn in our favor, as even the mightiest sometimes discover, to their detriment."

"The mightiest, Professor?" Amber spoke up, with Shinji looking at the copper-haired girl gratefully as the man turned his attention to her. "Do you have an example?"

Quirrell pursed his lips, as if he was contemplating something, before nodding as he glanced over the three students before him.

"Mister Matou, do you remember the story I told you of a certain Nicholas the Wise?" the man inquired, with the boy nodding slowly.

"I do, but what about it?" Shinji responded, looking somewhat confused, before his expression cleared. "Oh! Is that the example you meant? How the creator of the Philosopher's Stone, an artifact so mighty and magical it could keep himself – and those he cared about – from dying, forgot how to make the relic he is known for? Or…are you about to tell us of his apprentice?"

The Defense Professor chuckled.

"Neither actually, though it is true that they were both mighty," he noted simply, before quirking an eyebrow. "Tell me, have you ever heard the tragedy of Tomas the Fearful?"

"…who?" Natsumi asked.

"Mm, I thought not. It's not something Binns would have lectured on, given exactly _when_ it happened! It isn't ancient history, after all!" The man's lips tugged into a smirk for a moment before his expression smoothed. "Tomas was a wizard, one so powerful and so learned that he could affect not just flesh, but spirit. Indeed, his knowledge was great enough that he even could keep himself from dying – even from the Killing Curse – through the construction of anchors wrought of his soul."

"…such a thing is actually possible?" Amber found herself voicing.

"Indeed. For those with the right…ambitions, the study of magic can be a pathway to abilities some would consider unnatural."

"You called him 'the Fearful', and said this was a tragedy," Shinji observed shrewdly. "So…what did he fear, and what happened to him?"

Quirrell nodded at the boy approvingly.

"Excellent questions, Mister Matou," he murmured. "Indeed – I called him the Fearful, for more than most men, Tomas feared the prospect of death. Everything he did, from his studies to the way he mutilated his soul, from his decision to pursue power to…his more questionable decisions in life, flowed from this desire." The Defense Professor took a breath here. "Eventually, he learned of the Philosopher's Stone, and so sought to obtain it, approaching the endeavor as he did most other things in his life. In the end, he managed to attain it, yet in attaining it, was unmade, betrayed in his most vulnerable moment by an accomplice." Quirrell smiled at this. "Ironic, that after all the measures he had taken to prevent his death, the one relic that could have given him true immortality was instead the cause of his demise."

"Is this a true story?" Shinji asked warily.

"Oh yes, yes indeed," the man replied openly. "More to the point though, do you grasp the lesson to be learned from it?"

"That one should be careful of who one shows weakness to?" Amber suggested, with Quirrell chuckling.

"That is one lesson, yes. There are others as well."

"What would you say is the main lesson then, Professor?" Natsumi questioned.

"That while emotions like fear may certainly give one the drive to accomplish great and terrible things, one should be careful that one is not ruled by them, lest one's actions make that fear a reality," the Defense Professor supplied, looking pointedly at Matou Shinji as he did. "Tomas, after all, could never escape his fear of death – a fear which led directly to his end."

"…I understand," the boy murmured, lowering his head, with the others following suit.

"For your sake, I sincerely hope so," Quirrell replied, nodding at the trio. "Now go and defeat the trial I have devised for you."

He sat down and proceeded to watch as they did exactly that, working together with a fluidity and ease that he'd seen in few other teams, save for the duo of Wroxton and Sokaris, and well, given what he knew of the purple-haired girl, it just didn't seem quite fair to compare them.

' _Should they survive the next few years, they have great potential…'_

Potential that could be shaped, potential that could be _guided_ , potential that might one day lead to greatness.

' _They may surpass me, even with all I have learned, and all I have become,'_ the man mused to himself. _'They – or one of the others I have chosen to cultivate. Such is as I hope – as all competent teachers should hope – that those who come to me as learners will one day become masters.'_

That they might be the instrument he needed to burn away the rot in Magical Britain, by cunning, example or force.

' _I suppose, seeing their success, I have come to a decision of my own,'_ Quirrell noted, as he looked back at his papers. _'The current situation, after all, is not tenable.'_

In the wake of Binns' disappearance, he had been asked to temporarily teach History of Magic, in addition to his position teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, but a man – even one as intelligent as he was – could not realistically hold both positions and do an effective job. To her credit, Acting Headmistress McGonagall (and there was another interesting wrinkle, since in the wake of _Dumbledore's_ disappearance, the Board of Governors had refused to appoint a permanent replacement without time to consider 'all qualified candidates'), realized this and asked him which position he would prefer to remain in, given that neither position was particularly easy to fill.

He'd strongly considered becoming Hogwarts' History Professor, as it would be a relatively secure position, and one which left him a great deal of time to pursue interests outside of the castle. However, it was also a role without much in the way of prospects for advancement…

' _Defense then. I think it will be interesting to see what the students think when I return next year, and there I am – not another teacher in the long string of instructors who have lasted only a year.'_ No doubt they'd be confused, wondering if what they'd heard about a curse was correct, or if it had merely been a long string of very, very bad luck. _'That said, I do wonder who the new History teacher will be. It_ is _a core subject, even if it is one our students do not much appreciate.'_

All in all, he thought the year had gone rather well – better than he'd hoped, in fact.

First, he was alive.

Second, _he_ , not Dumbledore and not some chosen child of legend, had helped engineer the final defeat of a Dark Lord.

Third…he had met some interesting students, as well as gaining the favor of an individual who would soon become quite influential in Egypt – and who owed him quite a sizable favor he intended to redeem at some future date. Already, they had done brilliant work together, with one result being the vial in his robes – a glass tube filled with a substance as colorless as water, but infinitely more valuable.

What the next years held, he didn't know, as unlike his accomplice, he did not seek to calculate the future. What he did know was that it would be interesting, and that he looked forward to the surprises it would bring, free of the insecurities that had plagued him since he was a student, free of the doom that had hung over his head after he'd discovered the wraith of Voldemort, free of oversight from well-meaning but short-sighted wizards who did not have the will to do what was necessary.

For he had _won_ , and through victory, his chains had been broken.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thank you for reading to the end of **But for a Stone,** an exploration of another set of possibilities that Matou Shinji could have chosen, had Harry Potter died shortly after his fateful encounter with Voldemort, all those years ago. The result - a year much less defined by a single iconic quest (retrieve the Stone), and much more concerned with how Shinji grows and develops as a person, especially with regards to how he deals with the issue of his family and the psychological abuse he suffered at their hands. Most of the characters you've met in this story that you may find unfamiliar - e.g. Amber, Miyuki, Natsumi, Selina, & Nigel - are drawn from the Harry Potter video games, with their backgrounds fleshed out by some research. Penny Haywood comes from the _Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery_ mobile game. Perhaps you may meet them in their original contexts and see their stories one day!


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